The House of Seb

He enters his church - the Routemaster
Breathes in the comforting smell
Slips into a pew - front seat, top deck
He knows this church so well.

The windows are fogged with condensation
In this holy place
And it’s raining outside but he doesn’t care
This bus has a smiley face.

He respects the history and resilience
Of his resplendent red false idol
But refrains from whispering oh-so-quietly
‘Who loves you baby? I do!’

Every part of the journey, he savours
The old-fashioned cord and the bell
But don't mention the Church of the Bendy Bus
Cos he’d rather burn in hell!