SelfPub: Son

You jump in the morning in a coat and let's go feat!
Though the seats in the subway car for me and no,
I'm here, son. I - the steering wheel and your turn signal,
I - fresh flowers and soft sun light.
When all around are singing about money, success,
My voice gets quiet and cold.
But I'm alive in your bell-ringing laughter,
In the evening hours, spent with you.