I hear the train in the distance
The clank of metal speech
Grazing over roads that have known better days
I hear the rasping cries of the conductor
As he calls out the names of places
Places where I might or might not want to be
I hear the whistle, a knife through the air
I hear the train in the distance
And I close my eyes
Trying so hard to forget all those treasures
All those picayune sparkles
That used to be everything for me
Keeping up my endeavour
To forget everything
But the train in the distance
I stand
With a smile that’s been there
Just there
For so long
That it’s ancient with the lines of stagnancy
I stand
And just like always
I do the right thing
Even if it might not be
The right thing for me