The IT highway

Fresh in the morn I start from home,
It's gonna b a ride to writhe and moan.
The traffic is too heavy to steer and brake,
When I reach my seat, am only half-awake.

IT-Highway is what they call it,
But even to be a lane, it's not fit.
The road is too bumpy, leave alone the board,
Ouch, on a second thought, is there a road?

Who will tell them it cannot take the traffic?
Everytime I travel tiz road, my pulsar is sick.
The share vans zoom across the way,
Insecure is my life even to this day.

To make matters worse is the rain water,
I lose my mind peace and laughter,
and the lorries and heavy trucks,
and the bad road, to them all, I say my yucks.

And as they keep working and dig and pop,
The traffic jam is never going to stop.
Someone save me this killing knife,
To her, then, will i owe my life.