Your going to be late.

The train rolls on with no one aware,
over the boy with his dishevelled hair,
his headless form resting on the track,
the driver knows he must walk back,

you curse ..im late..im late..i going to be late,
below your feet the child embraced their fate,
with a heart devoid of hate.

the red stain of love, you dont see from above,
his eyes open his face not yet cold,
he is the boy who will never grow old,
your late..your late..your full of hate.