The Highway


Better build a highway.
Take us through this town.
Had too many hold ups.
Congestion makes me frown.

Pull down some more houses.
Build a concrete trench.
Quicker through the city.
Congestion makes me tense.

Now I’m moving faster.
Getting there on time.
Speeding down the highway.
Congestion off my mind.

But doubts begin to rise.
I think and look around.
Pulling down those houses
has ruined my fair town.

No longer are we happy.
With everything we see.
The highway’s taken over.
And all because of me.

1973, March

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