Life’s a slow bus to the edge of town,
With unplanned stops along the way.
Trust in the driver; he won’t let you down.
Traffic lights shine on a sidewalk clown,
Waltzing the hours till he turns gray.
Life’s a slow bus to the edge of town.
The potholes in the pavement’s crown
Jolt the passengers every day.
Trust in the driver; he won’t let you down.
Distanced from curbs that fade to brown
Stand churches open for all to pray.
Life’s a slow bus to the edge of town.
Welcome your seatmate’s smile or frown.
Pay more than what you have to pay.
Trust in the driver; he won’t let you down.
This trip’s a verb, not just a noun,
Steering you into come what may.
Life’s a slow bus to the edge of town.
Trust in the driver; he won’t let you down.
—David Galef
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
War abroad. Socialists on the rise. AI upending human life. Endless uproar online. The modern attention economy doesn’t want readers — it wants users enslaved to the tyranny of the present.
First Things is the antidote: literary excellence, timeless truths, and a fixed point of reference in a culture that has lost its bearings.
But we can’t do it without readers like you.
Our goal: Raise $150,000 by November 1 to sustain First Things in the year ahead.
Your gift anchors readers in the permanent things.
Make your Fall Campaign gift now using the button below.
If you have any questions or would like more information, please contact Giovanni Del Piero, Director of the Editor’s Circle, at gdelpiero@firstthings.com or 212-627-1985.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
A Culture of Parricide
I learned a new word the other day: déploration. It’s the French, directly from the Latin, for “lament.”…
The Chariot Burials
Wheeling through the clotted earth, / Bronze, bone, and leather clumped in clay...
William of St. Thierry
“Where love and understanding join, hearts are tranquil, / They rise above the turmoil of this world…
