Downbeat:
Hop on this bus,
ride and ride all night,
and get yourself past 
some long-dimmed streetlight.

That scent of strange fruit,
fallen, breeds stranger fears
that hope just ain't a thing
(with feathered ears).

Backbeat:
Hey, pop!
Say, you got the time?
Soon as she comes,
I'm taking this line
all the way!
To its last stop.

Upbeat:
Soon you've come
to this end, a suburban
meadow and must
lose your sight at last
to protect what you've seen.
The most faithful of us
still listen for whispers passed
between our shared dreams.