O humble lords of night
enthroned on the Metro RTA,
crowned by wires twining white,
Is there a place thou fear to tread?
O, steed of Akronian breed,
as bus-ly as a bus can be,
what demons pearl your sleepless nights?
what evils lurk within your lights?
and what goodness?
O humble lords of night,
fed on brown bread, hate, and might,
do not weep, do not dread,
the world is dead,
the world is right.