[Intro]
Bus stop breeze, coffee steam, morning hums along.
[Verse 1]
I’m thirty-five, American-made, with a patient, easy smile,
Waiting for the bus, I find a joke in every mile.
Pigeons stride like tiny bosses, the crosswalk holds its grin,
A napkin drifts by—my cue to laugh again.
[Chorus]
Bus, hurry up, or don’t—either way I’m smiling wide,
Finding punchlines in the pause, in every slow-rolling ride,
Waiting at this curb-side, I’m living in between the lines.
[Verse 2]
A kid’s toy squeaks in time, the umbrella drums the rain,
I scroll through memes and nod at the mundane again.
These small odd moments keep the day from losing pace,
I pack them up for later and wear a grin on my face.
[Chorus]
Bus, hurry up, or don’t—either way I’m smiling wide,
Finding punchlines in the pause, in every slow-rolling ride,
Waiting at this curb-side, I’m living in between the lines.
[Bridge]
If the schedule slips, I ride the joke to morning light,
Tiny theater at the stop, turning chaos into bright.
[Outro]
The bus sighs in, I step on, day officially in flight.
