something-of-a-dub…
and we roll
roll down arteries of the mainstreet,
night light on eyes
fireflies and skies,
rhythm beating out
fleeting doubt
when jazz is a messenger,
leaning out - the window for passing grace
on a smiling face,
of a crazy race -
humanity as one,
as we move like an equaliser,
and wheels slide slick rubber
down these arteries,
factories of the early hours of life.
yes. yeah yeah.