The undecided Commoner, waking up to the blistering Alarm Clock. Loyal "9 to fiver" up on their feet. The swing of the towel around their waste covers the cost of sleeping. Making sense of it is the profound majesty of holding on.
Weary is the eyes of his fellow bus riders. Choking on their month-end bud-getting, getting nothing back from the toil of their preparedness in the morning... perhaps the morning glory might help. They're Moaning every breath
