Well, he’s balancing on one rail, rust against bare toes,
Down by the tracks where the hyacinth grow
Not allowed back there, but mama don’t care,
Mama don’t care cause she don’t know where he goes.

Leaves the backyard baseball till it’s time to eat,
Crosses the Cuyahoga, cleans those dusty feet,
Gets them black again all over, running out to meet
The afternoon, the backwoods, and a friend or two.

Years fly by like train cars on old, forgetful tracks
Soon he’s singing Springsteen songs all summer long, and taking whiskey back
Where the wildflowers turn to wildfires burning in the woods,
And a teenage boy can get his hands on his share of the goods.

Leave the books behind you, go find something sweet,
Cross over the Cuyahoga, clean those dusty feet,
Get them black again all over, running out to meet
The setting sun, the night’s begun.

Now me, I’m from the east coast, and In my town we sail,
But I met a man who’s made me think I’d rather go by rail
And we’re miles from his old station, but the same tracks run through here
And if we walked them far enough we’d cut right through the years

To play some backyard baseball in the summer heat,
Cross over the Cuyahoga, clean those dusty feet,
Get them black again all over, running out to meet the morning sky,
Gonna catch a ride,
Hopping the same line,
Sitting side by  side.

Copyright © 2010 Lizzy Ross. All Rights Reserved.