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How long is this train son |
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I heard his fragile voice |
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I didn't want to listen but there really was no choice |
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It seems like it goes on forever and I waited for so long |
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The old man's breath came slow and smelled of whiskey in the dawn |
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On a cold November morning in the gentle mist of rain |
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There's just so many reasons that people wait to meet a train |
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And as I waited for my sister to come down the metal stairs |
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He told me that his son had not been home in fifteen years |
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And I barely seemed to notice the tears behind his face |
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But his wishes were no strangers to the people in this place |
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The old man stood there waiting for a young man dressed in blue |
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Then he handed him a neatly folded flag and said for you |
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He said your son he died a hero in the service of this flag |
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The old man took it gently put it in his paper bag |
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Then I left him in the rain there but I'd still hear his voice |
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I try hard not to listen but there really is no choice |
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On a cold November morning in the gentle mist of rain |
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There's just so many reasons that people wait to meet a train |
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How long is this train son |
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I can hear the pouring rain |
