The tube.

I see people in the subways
Taking care of their own lives
as they see time roll away
and they wonder why it always flies

I wonder what makes them laugh
I wonder what makes them cry
How many souls have gone astray
How many hearts are still alive

If they are holding onto sanity
Barely hanging from a precipice
Or if they can barely feel gravity
Saying "It can't get any better than this"

I suppose I can only read their hands,
Their bodies, their lips or their eyes
But really I'll never know in fact
What it is that keeps them alive