These hard metal things
Come straight from the Engineer’s mind
I sit and listen as its gears grind
But from up close
It looks dirty
smells musty
the openings are crusty
I can boast
My moving parts are better than most
They’re warm and fast like a ghost
We can escape as we coast
Riding steady
Looking at the Seacoast
My gears sound heavy
It’s pulling, ready to shift
People stare with envy
