The bright doors close.
We move; the station passes.
Now darkness swallows us
As we pour through it.

A yellow light—–past!
Another light—–past!—–past!
A flat white streak, and we don’t stop,
We speed! faster, fiercer, driving!

And we are lovers lashed through wonder;
Joy’s soul storming with purpose;
Ideas tracking dreams.

And hundreds, thousands, millions, going to work:
Bold-thinkers, old-thinkers, gold-thinkers,
All pow’ring throught the earth, shaking it.

And now slowing down
To stop at home.

The bright doors open,
Out steps the city’s heart and mind and blood and guts and soul.
We are its seeds and wings, its sparks and words;
We dreamed it, built it, love it, worship it.
And now it smiles above us waiting its great parents—-
Its masters, kings, angels, bosses, gods—-
Its real women and its real men.

We come in steel bolts of lightning
And we bring the day!