Today it's Rose's story.
She blew in from some hick town
out west: Nowheresville. Changed her name
to Rose. It was swell at first.
Waited tables. Wasn’t tied down.
Diners liked her. A winsome dame.
Then one day the bubble burst.
Her room was suddenly too small:
the city way too large, too loud,
the streets seemed sinister and grim
and there was one guy, mean and tall,
who tried to own her, so she vowed
to quit, to run away from him.
The midnight bus to Nowheresville:
that sure is the one to be on.
She’s waiting for the Greyhound now,
alone there under the neon.