Not in Service

When I’m waiting for a bus
And I am running late,
There’s a sight I often see
And it’s one that I hate.

As the time goes ticking by,
I get extremely nervous;
Then I’ll finally see a bus
But it says “Not in Service.”

I don’t understand that sign;
The engine must be working.
Envisioning the driver’s face,
I think he must be smirking.

Passing by a crowded stop,
He drives right by – to where?
It’s obvious we’re waiting,
But he doesn’t seem to care.

If he did, he’d surely stop
And call to us in line,
“Hop on board and by the way,
Please disregard that sign!”

But that will never happen.
“Not in Service” buses pass;
Their engines hum, their drivers smirk,
Their tanks are full of gas.

And we, the passengers-to-be,
Stand in the cold and rain;
And there is nothing we can do,
But rightfully complain!