Riding the line Between here and where Riding the line Do we know the stop I stepped into the carriage Because the doors were open. Didn’t ask the map, Just followed the motion. Every face reflects a question, Every window moves the same. Stations pass like borrowed thoughts, All the signs change names. We’re moving with intention Or just agreeing to speed Do we know where we’re going Or just when we arrive Is the destination chosen Or something we survive Do we know where we’re going Or do we ride to feel alive Funny thing about the route, You notice it most When you stop pretending You’re the one driving. Do we know where we’re going Or is knowing overrated Every stop feels temporary Every motion calculated Next station announced. Nobody stands up.
