I glance across the other seats upon the bus And gaze off to the west We breathe the same air; pumped through the jets in our chests When the tigers were in full bloom, it kept our numbers low I was born in a surgery ward, ate melons though the Algonquin snows The painters dip themselves into the sensory belt Collecting symbols of stars Its not how it looked but how it felt; we held the tree up by her arms But dovetails are just dovetails And we're not doves any longer The tigers have lulled our U-Boats And approach our illuminated shores