I have tire marks
On my neck
My back
My chest
My arms
My legs
My forehead even
And the bus keeps rolling
I have so many tire marks
On my body that
I’m beginning to
think
That they’re tattoos
I’ve been rolled over
So many times
That I can’t feel
anything
Anymore
I’ve been
Mangled
Crushed
Dismembered
And the bus keeps rolling
I’ve been thrown under the bus
So many times,
That I’m not waiting
anymore
I’ve learned
To throw myself
Under the bus
And convince myself
That it doesn’t hurt
As much
I’ve been under the bus
So long that
I think this is where
I belong
And the bus keeps rolling
