top of page


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.

bottom of page