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South-Bound Lane

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The lay of the land goes from grass to concrete.
We debark from a small quiet town to arrive in the land of decadence and money.
The speed limit goes up and landscapes are a blur.

The purr from the engine; the bad from my iPod are the only sounds.
To the young ones it will be a treat to see all of us.
We’ll all wander around the fancy house in your sandal-clad feet.

Dinner will be served and we’ll gather and giggle,
While I try to keep up with the conversation because I’m caught in the middle.
The family will all plaster a smile on their face, because we all feel so out of place.





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