The Tubular West
Samuel Andreyev
On time and in the air
The Tubular West makes its mythos
Hide in the wings waiting for the grass to grow
Once brushed out by the fan
A storm is guided through the young and
Poor bird's-eye view floating glass into a length
Walking by the fleets
That scatter light toward the eye
A pull is felt to have a way to engineer a
Move within the Potter's Field
On the way to The Tubular West
From open tracks afar
The view makes hay and settles wage in
Tandem with breath where The Tubular West stands
Now if the crest were done
The foot would tap its messages to
All of the folks waiting for a turn to hear
Flocking to the streets
That flatter height in time to cry
A fuller belt in daylight sends the clearing
Grave to sow the lotteries
In a wave to The Tubular West