I wish I was a train,
Id be a dark carriage and hurtle through tunnels,
Slice through causeways
And underground bowels of the city,
A silver bullet leaving light streaks in the night.
During the day,
I would lie in a yard in the beating sun,
Dormant and unaware of the graffers who risk life
And freedom to mark me,
So I might take their names on nightly missions
And spread their art far and wide.
I would stop only at secret stations,
The ones now unused,
Where lost souls of the city linger,
Waiting for their final ride.