On the highway, traffic crawls
With stops and starts and braking.
Seems that progress isn’t something
That the traffic’s making.
With stops and starts and braking.
Seems that progress isn’t something
That the traffic’s making.
On my right, the river gleams
With tour boats smoothly gliding,
The passengers much more relaxed
Than we on asphalt riding.
With tour boats smoothly gliding,
The passengers much more relaxed
Than we on asphalt riding.
Manhattan is an island, but
It rarely can deliver
On any street a trip as fast
As those upon the river.
It rarely can deliver
On any street a trip as fast
As those upon the river.
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