Down on Robertson Road
Where the white painted windows
Bleach in the autumn sun
The red-lipped lady steps forth
Umbrella in hand
Making her stand
On a journey she had now begun
Down on platform six
Where the old grey porter stands
Unsure of the line ahead
The fresh faced woman waits
Chewed gum at her feet
Waiting a seat
On a journey she always dreads
Down on bended knee
Where the ticket inspector calls
And the strap hangers hang
The nervous mother stares
An old man at her side
Taking a stride
On a journey with an urban chain gang
Down on Blackfriars Bridge
Where the swarm of people sway
And pigeons pick up the crumbs
The businesswoman now walks
Past the familiar gate
Testing her own fate
On a journey which her life succumbs
No Time to Think 