No sleep, you’re counting those falling. Turn white as a sheet in the face of the rain grown colder. The wild flower waltzing,. The locomotive crawling. But on the wheels where the rust don’t
In the shuffling madess. Of the locomotive breath,. Runs the all-time loser,. Headlong to his death. He feels the piston scraping --. Steam breaking on his brow --. Old charlie stole the handle
In the shuffling madness. Of the locomotive breath,. Runs the all, time loser,. Headlong to his death. He feels the piston scraping. Steam breaking on his brow. Old Charlie stole the handle and
tells me no. You could sell your body on the street. To anyone whom you might meet. Who'd love to try and get inside. And bust your innocence open wide . 'Cause my baby's got a locomotive. My baby's gone