I’m sitting here thinking, about where
I’m heading on this old train, and to
Tell you the truth, I just don’t know or care.
My face is pushed up against the window pane.
Every time this old train passes through another
blurred nondescript town only memory of it is,
the whistle sound, fading eerily down the tracks.
Sometime wonder, why I never feel settled in any place.
Perhaps it’s the sight of the same old blurred towns
sliding past my window pane, on this or any other train.
The town I left, was as good as any I passed along the way,
but it’s just moving right along on a train to anywhere,
that has me intrigued enough to say, maybe next town.
.
I’ll get off at some nondescript town wander around
Won’t be no different, than where I’ve been and where
I’m heading, but at least it’s time out to think, and
to be true ask myself, will I catch another train.
Only answers is I don’t care, press my face against a
window pane, and watch the same old blurred towns slide
past,as I sit listening to, that mournful whistle sound as
the train sways away down the tracks thinking, that’s all
I’ll ever know about, that or any other, beat up nondescript town.
