One day an old and worn-out train
   will come along and call my name,
   and I will know to climb inside.

   There will be no need to run.
   I’ll have no shadow in the sun
   and know there is no need to hide.

   And then the man I tried to be
   will look out the glass and see
   fields of dreams and a cloudless sky.

   And I will have no fears or tears
   and will not pray for one more day.

   The train runs swiftly on silent tracks
   and my yesterdays will be flash backs,
   thousands in the blink of an eye.

   Wave to me, and do not cry
   as the whistle blows and I pass by
   on one last ride to see the sea.

   And then the man I tried to be
   will look out across that sea,
   and see horizons of goodbye.

   And I will have no fears or tears
   and will not pray for one more day.