Crafter - Unsaid

This may be the last bus I step off as i bid farewell to a long run
We used to laugh when our legs braced the sand
Turning up the songs when I went two decades deep
I longed for stolen pages and harnessed back
Floating like tumbleweed across the tar
With an eagerness to know if I could raise myself from inaction
My brothers told me that we're all the same
Less alive these days, honing complacency
Unable to see the time we cast away