22 Apr 2004
On goes the fatal train set in my tracks.
I see it coming, but I canít stop it.
In my wake it follows as on it hacks.
I canít stop it, but I see it coming.
Iím weak and Iím slow, and itís dashing hard.
Bewildered, I give it all that I have.
Wretched train, derail thyself by my flesh,
Then get scrapped for metal and sold for cash.
I get no mercy for boycotting trains;
ĎTis my reward for living by complaints.
I hate the train, yet I follow its tracks.
My own direction is what my life lacks.
From the rushing world, I canít get away.
The tougher it gets, the harder I pray
To escape from this madness or done be,
Engulfed in my blood, if I cannot flee.
Hurry! The bandwagon is not yet full!
Come crush weak hearts with us; we are not cruel!
It doesnít matter that your mind is strong Ė
Keep it and get crushed; lose it, come along!