There's man to the right of me
On the Number 14 Bus heading to Putney
His sigh is like a storm cloud
I can hear his thoughts out loud
His eyes are red, he's been crying
His face is that of a man who's dying
Behind his thick-rimmed glasses, is a firm fixed stare
Under his breath you can him swear
His fists are clenched and he looks angry
As I look out the window, he looks right through me
With so much torment and pain
He bows his head to avoid eye contact and shame
He seems like a man lost in a whirlwind of non-direction
But when I look closely I see a smile in my reflection