Through darkness we stare at the countryside.
The crisp cold of winter touching our faces,
The lucky few huddled around a heater,
Others slumped on the floor under their coats.
Why? Why? Why? Someone shouts in vexation.
There is always someone who cracks up first,
Most of us have seen this countless times before and since.
Anger buried by years of the same slog,
Fatigue and weariness blur our senses
This I'd truly the journey of the damned
Another delayed Southeastern train ride
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