It is a box with benches inside
We're sitted in rows up to five side by side
Big door on the side with a creaky slide
But in it we're sitted and on it we ride


Driver at wheels, conductor at the door
Screams routes and fares at the top of his lungs
One by one we boarded and sitted as such
All on the day's business and mostly to work


Forlon faces all around to see
By our expressions our thoughts you may read
Caught in a trap of the daily routine
A cycle that starts every...