i got on the bus to boston at 8am
with nothing but a change of clothes
a walkman, a book
and a bag of weed
the road was long, slow
and strange eyes stared at me from all
directions
the quiet atmosphere was unsettling
what random thoughts were all these folks
thinking
i wondered, pondered, then thought better of it
the book I carried was dull
I don’t even remember what it was
but it kept me distracted
the quiet tension was beginning to grate on my nerves
glances were exchanged
then, finally I played some ozzy to break the silence
we stopped at a liquor store in New Hampshire
i was too young to buy booze
but a cool cat went in and got me some tequila
we drank and i rolled a big joint
we smoked, and toked, and
talked and laughed
no one seemed to care
in fact we attracted quite a crowd
people are more friendly when there’s pot and booze
floating around
then
it was time to resume the trip
we shuffled hesitantly back on the bus
quiet again almost dreamy
i thought about sleep, but you really cant sleep
on a bus with so many strangers
staring out the window stoned
the rest of the ride seemed to fly by
i don’t remember much after that
life seemed blurry
when i arrived in boston
i felt lost, such a big city
and I was so small
where was my friend?
after awhile i saw him coming,
little did I know
that the real trip was about to begin…