graffitied boxcars
tattooes calling you or me
hauling emptiness
interrupting lives
hazards signaled down the line
cargo dead inside
schedule for power
tell us now is important
drain the hourglass
watch them disappear
remake us in a craven
image of our lust
our palette stolen
our blood bled all this color
running painted freight
each carriage rolls by
we wonder at how they lie
chained each end to end
their whistles carry
across the landscape screaming
by our eyes we hear
like a hurricane
deadheading without notice
colors over all
want to have it all?
a future buried under past’s
deceitful promise
truth is in the grade
switch to coast and ride it back
we, the track, did lay