As you ride the train out of Chicago and the car
sways sways sways sways
sways sways sways sways
sways sways sways sways
as you roll on toward your destination
and you look outside and you see the sun beams
swirling in the circles of the train car windows
and you see them reflecting in bends off of the raaaaaaaaails of the train
track tracks
track tracks
track tracks
track tracks
the lids of your eyes slowly begin to fall
and you think
what a beautiful day it has been.
Then the train passes an abandoned building with
bro-ken win-dows
and you ask
what lives were lived there that are now long…
forgotten?
And then the train passes the Chicago burbs with apartment buildings
and white pick pick pick pick picket fences
and boys playing street soccer
and a girl crying because they won’t let her play
and mothers telling the boys to be fair
and then a boy crying because the girl just scored the winning goal
and then everyone yelling
CAR!
and running to the sidewalks to run to start playing the next round as the car passes
and you think
What a beautiful day it has been.
And then the train passes another with
grafffffffffit-t-t-t-t-ti all along it
and you ask why is the best art with the strong stories behind it called vandalism
wile the worst art is worth millions because it’s called abstract?
And then the train passes woodlands and a wave of nostalgia floods your mind
as you remember the times when your brothers and friends built forts
and played war in the overgrown gully behind your yard
and you think
what a beautiful day it has been.