Waiting in the service line
Tapping feet and marking time
Never got anywhere but in a hurry
Guy at the back starting to worry

That his daughter’s card won’t come on time
She won’t hear the magic chime
That kept him from a life of crime
Walking down that narrow line

That settles next to the edge
Makes you peer over the ledge
And shows what might have been
If you had turned left at sixteen

Now at the front
The past fades to grey
Uncertainty melts
And it’s a bright blue day

In all possible worlds.

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