The Train Is Coming
I heard the train whistle from miles down the track. It brought back old memories of my times living on the rails and I think I kinda want them back.
I’ve lived my life as a dreamer; grand ideas but no concrete plans. I’ve lived a life time on the rails and I think I kinda want them back.
The highways and by ways held no promises for me; was hoping I’d find more than just a smiling face, just something to hold on to, making me want to come back.
I’d always hope she’d be there waiting for me to come home, open my door and there’d she be with open arms and with a smile on her face. Are you hungry she’d ask knowing that I was. The night, I’d hope would last for more than just one. But in the morning she’d be gone and I silently hoped and wondered if she was ever coming back.
Whether it be the highways or the rails, the small towns would fade from my memory until somehow, somewhere those memories would flood back if only for a fleeting moment and with a passing glance, I’d remember.
I hear that old train whistle from miles down the track. I hear that train coming, calling me, making me wonder if I want to try again or maybe just remember all those times I packed my gear running, wait for me, knowing that I’d never look back.
I’ve lived my life as a dreamer; grand ideas but no concrete plans. I’ve lived a life time on the rails and I think I kinda want them back.
The highways and by ways held no promises for me; was hoping I’d find more than just a smiling face, just something to hold on to, making me want to come back.
I’d always hope she’d be there waiting for me to come home, open my door and there’d she be with open arms and with a smile on her face. Are you hungry she’d ask knowing that I was. The night, I’d hope would last for more than just one. But in the morning she’d be gone and I silently hoped and wondered if she was ever coming back.
Whether it be the highways or the rails, the small towns would fade from my memory until somehow, somewhere those memories would flood back if only for a fleeting moment and with a passing glance, I’d remember.
I hear that old train whistle from miles down the track. I hear that train coming, calling me, making me wonder if I want to try again or maybe just remember all those times I packed my gear running, wait for me, knowing that I’d never look back.
