Speaking volumes with their eyes
Before the coach had even left
Let alone hit the motorway

Stabbing words echo deep
Petering on a seat
Tirelessly moaning spray haired

Oxidized in seconds
Climbing walls in a closed space
In a language not yet wrote 

Microfilmed in barely suspended anger
Snow like in a silent explosion 
Observing just one thought 

Just one sentence over and over
Does he realise how stupid
He looks 

Yeah, just trying to bride
The coach driver
To miss a stop.