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I'm sitting here picking the holes in my sneakers |
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Watching the moves of those midnight creepers |
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There's a smell of a song, rustling through my head |
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Something about being somewhere else instead |
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And the ghost train comes blowing on in, through this town |
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Picking up the passengers then putting them down |
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And the wind steals a leaf, like the ghost of a thief |
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And the autumnal wind blows around and around |
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Oh those horses of smoke sneaking in through the trees |
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There's a shaking and a shuddering that goes to my knees |
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And I wonder what's happening, did I miss the joke |
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Another year sleeping I never awoke |
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There was plenty war and plenty of death |
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Plenty of hunger and wasting of breath |
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And all I did was scratch myself and dream a few dreams |
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And I wrote a few notes on what I think it all means |
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But reading them all now they don't amount to much |
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There's no meat to eat no flesh to touch |
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A few dreams of you and a few fish to fry |
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I just sat there watching another year go by |
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Oh those horses of smoke sneaking in through the trees |
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There's a shaking and a shuddering that goes to my knees |
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And I wonder what's happening, did I miss the joke |
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Another year sleeping I never awoke |
