This is My Train


Ridin’ the train, Johnny on the box
Folsom Prison Blues
Shuckin’ coal, like there’s no tomorrow
The firebox glows and pulses: red, orange, red, orange
The boiler bulges and only a check valve offers relief

We won’t slow down
We won’t let up
Blowing through stations – we turn them into nothing more than
Whistle stops

Crowded platforms whoosh past us, rifling my hair
Are we standing still or is it they?
Wannabe passengers wave and smile upon realizing that
This is not their train
This is my train

Blow the whistle Johnny
Let ‘em know we’re comin’


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2 thoughts on “This is My Train

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