Strata Shuttle

Gear shifts grind, a deep pulse beneath my seat,
Every passing echo, makes my own heart complete.
Dust settles soft on the taxi's old pane,
Watching the street lights, a crystal-streaked rain,
Fading the day's tired strain, as the journey takes hold.

This ride, this beat, a deep Kasi surge,
Let the log drums hit, feel the tectonic urge.
Sgija rhythm, move your body low,
Where the township's strata, lets your spirit freely flow.

Past the crumbling walls, where stories are etched in stone,
Hear the vendor's call, a melody all our own.
Beneath the full moon's gaze, secrets unfold and mend,
A quiet erosion, where old chapters gently end,
We vaiben slow, on this ever-shifting ground.

No need for grand truths, just the engine's steady prayer,
A subtle lunar pull, authenticity in the night air.
This moment's bedrock, holding all we've been and known,
A profound joy in deep connection, never truly alone.

Bassline fades, but the rhythm remains.
Kasi cadence, through my veins.