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’
This is really good, TN. You took me there!
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Fantastic! I love the energy in this one. Nicely done! 🙂
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