Oregamy sweater

Jim came home
On his new Harley
Drowning out the neighbourhood
In a fearful racket
In his big leather jacket.

Lincon runs
Well on Tuesdays
All over the muddy city
He couldn't do better
In his oregamy sweater

Nobody knows
Where the trains hide
In the long, dusty evenings
Lurking like sharks
In the thickening dark

But Jim couldn't care less
Flying along
Totally wrong
Totally helpless
But helping himself.
And Lincon, he never worries
He runs straight
Through the gates
And out the other side
In the new morning air.

The coaches they run
Their inevitable circuits
Not stopping for breakfast
For lunch or for tea.
And I bet they get tired
Glued to the wires
Till infinity,
Wanting to be free.

But Jim couldn't care less
Thundering round
The alibaster town
Totally ignorant
Totally wrong
And Lincon watches the road signs
To see if he's heading
Down the wrong way
It's a rather long way
To the office.