Waiting for the Train

Stone and steel, track and rail,

Aged by sun and rain.

All the world parading by,

Waiting for the train.

Bleak and stark, the station waits

In sore need of repair,

Rusting, peeling,

Iron and concrete,

Captioned in despair.

Still the travelers storm its' gates

In passive mute attack;

Destinations never heard of

Somewhere down the track.

Every flavor, every fashion,

Oregon to Maine.

There's no telling what you'll see while

Waiting for the train.