The Bus Route

I sat on the bus,

With my hair that was a fuss,

The driver drove on,

Without a horn

We passed the offices,

While we made various voices,

Then came the haunting lands

Due to which we held our hands

We dared not to look out,

Or else we would shout,

Because the place we passed by,

Was freakishly styled

I often thought of ghosts,

Having toasts,

Even the bravest champ,

Would get scared seeing the ghost camp!

We would wait till the bus moved,

And when the teachers approved,

The scaredy cats would roar like lions,

Like unstable ions.