Passenger Train

Months aboard, a passenger train,

curtains drawn and leaving on my mind.

No matter where you go, people act the same,

make a habit out of leaving you behind.

All I was, covered in chrome, polished up just enough to sell,

when you’re gone I’m left alone, asking too little of myself.

Think I’d like to go back east, they’re calling in the cavalry.

When I find my ticket home, it’ll be good to be around again.

Eyes are glued to the evening news, to catch a glimpse of national unease,

as the moon comes into view, we crash like waves on the beach.

Think I’d like to go back east, they’re calling in the cavalry.

When I find my ticket home, it’ll be good to be around again.

It’ll be good to be around again.