Worried hands
Of the city people
Making progress
Neat and clean

What ozone smells like
When it's on the sheets
Of teenage ghosts

Or in the hats
Of magic children

And we all got the feeling
If you're from here
(Are you from here?)
That we'll leave home
On a better rocket
So we wait
For a sign
From Mother-Panic

Work-mob swarm- Blue Station Four
Men wearing wrinkles
Women wearing hats

Public transit
To a vacation seat
Destination
Of the hyper-lonely

Population you and I