We glide along, smooth as a bum
Rumble Rumble.
The trees whiz by and the power lines hum
Rumble Rumble.
We head back home on conflicting
tracks followed by this sound
Rumble Rumble.
Troubles brewing, a storms abound.
Rumble Rumble.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem