There was I, a man standing at the bus stop
But I was going in the opposite direction;
I did not know, because I could not remember.
“Can happen to anyone really”, forgetting your way.
I stood for hours in the cold wind and rain
Because the last bus had already passed this way.
I was dripping wet and was shivering away.
No one really noticed me standing in the rain,
Waiting for a bus that was going the opposite way.
I spoke to no one, no one spoke to me.  
As hopeless as this task seemed to be
I stuck at it until every drop of blood 
Ran out of every orifice into the road.
Drained and realising I was foolish 
To stand for so long for a bus going 
the wrong way and on the wrong side
of the street, people with stretchers
decided to take me away into the rising moon.