The railway is a silver line
piercing through the gloom
of this lonely place.
The night train’s slowly sliding by
shining in the moon
lighting up my face
and it makes such a lonesome sound.
The full moon is a cruel friend
beaming cold and bright on the railroad track.
The night train echoes back again
ghostly in the night,
never coming back;
and it makes such a lonesome sound.
The north wind blows into my soul
filling up the void that the night train made.
The night train is a memory
that I can’t avoid as I make my way
and it makes such a lonesome sound,
such a lonesome sound,
such a lonesome sound.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
The railway is a silver line
piercing through the gloom
of this lonely place.
The night train’s slowly sliding by
shining in the moon
lighting up my face
and it makes such a lonesome sound.
The full moon is a cruel friend
beaming cold and bright on the railroad track.
The night train echoes back again
ghostly in the night,
never coming back;
and it makes such a lonesome sound.
The north wind blows into my soul
filling up the void that the night train made.
The night train is a memory
that I can’t avoid as I make my way
and it makes such a lonesome sound,
such a lonesome sound,
such a lonesome sound.
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