Train

I'm on a train. The conductor's drunk.

I got my boots, and I got my trunk.

I got my books to keep me sane.

I'm on a train.

I'm on a train full of rogues and rakes.

We got no lights, and we got no brakes.

I hold my heart, and I curse its pain.

I'm on a train.

I left the yard just an engine strong.

Now my train’s fifty cars long.

I don't know if I’m going to see

everything that's in front of me.

I'm on a train with the common folk.

They're talking trash, and they're blowing smoke.

They’re pulling at my every dream.

I'm running out of coal, running out of steam.

I'm on a train, and it's heading south.

Its beautiful club car's an open mouth.

Its lips are cracked and its tongue is dry,

looking for a riverbed and an open sky.

My destination's down the line,

beyond the maple, past the pine,

over the hill and ‘round the bend,

signalling the station at the other end.