Lines of Nirvana

not much chance of nirvana on a greyhound bus from nowhere to no place a lady sits in front of you bird's nest in her hair you'll never see her face people don't talk to each-other only the crazies do that and you'll never get zen by looking out the window at dead grass and strip-malls that's not how it happens you'd have to kill a man with your bare hands to get your blood pressure to rise a nipple above nothing and if the bus stops in the middle of anywhere it will be the same and you'll have to find your nirvana in the back of someone else's head while staring at a tangled mess or the strait lines in the road