Diesel smells better than frankincense
And windows are better than glass panels
I invite you to my opinion
an opinion too damn hot to handle
It's about the two-ton church that doesn't run on a Sunday
It's hard to admit
But we will be saved by a bus one day

My favourite part of Melbourne ptv is the bus
Its A controversial statement I know
A statement I stand by because buses give us space to grow

Its a service built of orthodox drivers and weathered tires
Its a service that strictly runs on 3 elements
cigs, diesel and fire
It is true a holy trinity
But To dwell on grime divinities might well be to surrender to simplicity

For I love a bus ride
Where I can stretch my thought out into the reaches
Contrast that to a train
which turns us all into decrepit cramped creatures

Trains pair crowded sightlines with scraping knees
And while all transport cost the same trains come with hidden fees
Trains rob you of connection to self and connection to others
For at least till i press the button we are on this bumpy journey together, sisters and brothers

A train is a food court on wheels
While a bus is a collective odyssey that reveals
Buses reveals your character, your fears
It'll even give you a massage as it vibrates on those low humming gears

On a bus we all face in the same direction
And in that space is needed time for reflection
You are as much in your own space
, as we are all on this journey together
And as long as your not in a hurry the bus is the perfect place to wait out that stormy weather

I love it all on a Melbourne bus
The bumps, the battles, the drivers pack Serbian cigarettes
You don’t live your dreams on the bus, but you do overcome your regrets