At the bus stop
The graffiti on the walls
The words and the guys
The canned of colours spray
The passengers arrive
They don't look at it
Maybe it is there too long
They get used to the words
“1Malaysia...People first”
They know it never really happens
The political slogan just to feel good
Reality the spoon feeding bloom
The colours of the races
The religions they practice
One is so afraid of the other
Though it comes from the same family tree
“No Sir” they say their piece
“We are born to it and nobody should sway”
They want the numbers forgetting the quality
The journey to find salvation..
The religion and race
The buttering trade for a cause
The politicians and religious affairs
They forget we are Malaysians
The country of many strings
All tie to the same family tree
The Constitution which binds the nation
The leaders forget rushing to do their own thing
The bus passengers look
The faces they know so well
They don't have to put a tag
They know they are Malaysians
It's the half baked fools
They call themselves politicians
Running the length and breadth of the country
Branding their 3Rs forgetting the other colours
The bus move on
The passengers settle on their seats
Sharing the common goal
Nothing to feel superior or inferior
Some sit quietly letting minds roam
Some open books to read to gain knowledge
Some just stare into the empty spaces
Some just doze away letting the minds dream
They may have political differences
They may not share the same fortunes
In the bus as they group together
They have a common denominator
The bus moves on
The sound whirring in their ears
“1Malaysia....People first”
They don't dream on it
Here the common base
They can travel together in peace
In the common close up space
They know they have to live together
It's the politicians
They don't travel by bus
They don't sit with the commuters
They go with their grand luxurious cars
The bus moves on
Other passengers get up and go
Along the route many arrive and depart
The same faces every day affair
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