Sitting at the station, smoke fills my lungs and drifts away like memories of you.
Waiting for the train to peak around the never ending bend of tracks, I wait for not just a train but an escape.
I wait and wait until the rise of the moon.
I have places to go and plans to make.
One step at a time, isn't that how the saying goes?
I couldn't tell you, my steps are never going anywhere, it seems.
I wait for signs of trains and I wait to see the steam.
The big iron black, as black as the night you left.
Now I'm leaving too.
I look across the tracks and see inside a dinner.
The couples drinking coffee look nice, but baby, we were finner.
All that is behind me now, like the train tracks that are spit out as the train bustles me anywhere, everywhere, hopefully away from myself.
At least I'm leaving you, my dear, I'll pretend I was never left.
I await this train, it's down the track, you'll never stop me now.
I climb aboard, the engine roars and the conductor blows the whistle.
I flick that cigarette aside.
Never coming back.
