Łona - A dokąd to

1.
I rode among others, just another face that day,
On a bus dressed plain – only red and white paint.
An old Ikarus, with long-forgotten tales,
Windows patched with foil where the glass had failed.
Sixty-nine seats, three hundred twelve on board,
How that crowd fit in, I can't afford
To even guess – I stood polite in this chaos and strife,
Clinging to the rail, just holding on to life.
Through a dirty window, blurred like a dream,
Ten other buses rolled along the same stream.
Different colors on each old frame,
But down these roads, they all moved the same.
And worse – you could bang your head on the wall,
The pace was equal – but a snail's crawl.
People were pissed at this dragging pace,
So the boldest among us stepped up to the driver’s face,
And said: “Hey man, the folks back there
Want to know why you’re creeping like you just don’t care.
I’m still being nice, but don’t push your luck
Or this’ll turn into a ‘Fire and Sword’ kind of truck.
Why the hell are we so slow, what’s up?”
The driver, surprised by the passenger’s nerve,
Took a moment in silence before finding the words –
Which I’ll share in verse two, ‘cause before he could say,
The whole bus broke out in a singing display:

Ref.
Nobody remembers where we're going,
But the crowd keeps on hoping
This bus would move a little faster.
Though some long to go slower,
We're all on the same bus together. (x2)

2.
"Sir," said the driver, "I know we ain’t flying,
But this junk won’t go faster, no matter how I’m trying."
The passenger frowned, but the driver lit up:
“Hey, listen my friend – we might have some luck.
A few klicks ahead there's a stop we can hit,
With fifteen badass coaches, all fully equipped.
Painted blue with white stars, real slick rides.”
“Wait, what’s the catch?” – “No catch. Just switch sides.
They’ve got a workshop, tools and spares,
They’ll fix the brakes, patch leaks, do repairs.
Tell the folks, we can swap the broken bits,
New windows, fresh seats – get rid of these sh**s!”
The word spread fast, hope in every face,
Most were all in for that upgrade place.
But among the cheers, I heard a groan
Rising from skeptics, not quite alone.
First whispers, then louder, soon a revolt –
A protest rising like a lightning bolt.
“Whoa there, those new seats sound nice,
But that’s too far – we won’t pay that price.
So what if they’re filthy? At least they’re ours.
This engine and wheels – they’ve powered our hours.
You want to go faster? Fine – but not
On parts that belong to some outside lot.”
And a fight broke out between eager and wary,
Those who sought help and those more contrary.
Instead of working on peace and solutions,
They argued, while the bus cried for revolution.

Ref.
Nobody remembers where we're going,
But the crowd keeps on hoping
This bus would move a little faster.
Though some long to go slower,
We're all on the same bus together. (x2)