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Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
― Samuel Taylor Coleridge,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
― Samuel Taylor Coleridge,
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Stuck in a comfortable place
No guess what happens next
With a clear view of jam ahead
So much, much to do instead
Still sucked at the same spot
To stay put or to honk horns
One after another, another
Another one day goes by
Moves with zero sound
Midst music all around
Direction signs all day long
To move dead straight ahead
It seems like moving, or
Moving got stuck in a place.
