I sit here, time to think clear, stuck in this traffic.
Engine hums lowly, wheels move slowly, less than fantastic.
Someone pulls in front of me, maybe they can't see,
maybe they don’t care, they've blocked the road in front of me.
This person signals, making intentions well known.
But I want to go fast, and they want to go slow.
Do they know they're encroaching on my bubble?
Miles of blackened road, yet they want a cuddle.
We think the world moves at our speed,
ready to adventure, serving our need.
So I move over, that car wants to go fast.
'til they get in front of me, they just wanted a pass.
Each wants to lead, you know, be the speeder,
few want all to succeed, press on, be a leader.
Is this a team sport or is it a race?
We aren't all arriving at the same time or place.
My thought is it is a team sport, less than fantastic.
Maybe I'm stuck in life, nothing to do with traffic.