I was good at being good.
Then somehow it all fell apart.
I either felt too tight
Or,
They thought I was'nt right.
Either way, I m no longer what I used to be.

I sit by the window of my train,
There's a sweet lullaby of screaming kids,
They keep me awake.
I look out, not stargazing, not seeing,
Unaware of what to look

There is one constant though, through the shifting scence.
The sway remains constant,
it keeps moving, all through the way.

Sweet enough to sway this dear train, she tried rocking me to sleep.
Failed to however lure me into sweet clutches of slumber.

Thus passed one other long trip where the surroundings smudged and smeared like memories from a summer dream.