There use to be times when hobos would tell.
Stories of freedom times of riding the rails.
Going wherever the wind blew.
Everyday, seeing something new.

Hardship and freedom were their way of living life to the fullest.
Braving weather that could be the cruelest.
Owning only the shirt on their backs.
Living life on the railroad track.

When their life was at an end.
Their only treasure was memories of places they had seen and been.