I’m waiting, waiting
for an overdue train to wisdom.
The dirt road under me goes exactly nowhere,
and I’m hoping for a locomotive with a smooth easy ride.
Better find the tracks first, I say to myself.
Better look for a city,
a city full of song and all-aboards,
instead of this long country lane
going round another corn field.
I’m sitting here waiting, waiting for that damned train.
Better get up and walk, I say to myself.
Better find a pair of shoes to take me home in three clicks.
Home where a rocking chair waits.
Home to dinner and a place to pee.
I sit in the grass, and think maybe I hear the clickity-clack
the clickity-clack of an iron horse.
The ground trembles.
My bare feet sparkle with a ruby light
and a man full of straw jumps from the corn field,
holding his open palms to me.
This train is bound for Glory, we sing
as we dance down a dusty golden road
toward those lights in the sky.