I went down with a suitcase, carry the heavy bag,
who knows what I’ll find, and who cares?
And no, it’s all over,
I’m trying to analyze it in my mind,
but all the things I can think it’s,
nothing else than the casual thing.
Oh, if I could leave this bus stop.
The ancient bus stop,
where we stand like a bilion years ago,
With a casual things in our head,
and a stupid smile on our face.
Yes, it was a casual thing,
In a casual blues.
We went down breatheless, awaitng,
for the bus life will come.
I’d like to do it, nice and easy,
but it seems that nothing is not right under that sun.
We could set everything down,
all the casual things that annoied me.
But forever, all the time we spend,
was wasting for waiting here.
So why did I come?
What is so speical in this bus stop?
Why? should I be care from this place?
You are such a casual man,
living in anonymus town.
Such a moron but so gentle,
in that bus stop, we were here.
Yes you’er casual man,
live tomorrow for today,
such a casual man,
with nothing more than anything.
The little note, that flied in the wind,
where I write an answer,
to the question you asked.
And now I’m singing it in my casual blues.