Freedom

Oh so free
 
Free to fly upon the wings
 
Of an old smokestack
 
Bellowing cries of work, deep into the sky
 
 
Here it comes
 
Here
 
It comes
 
My ride to town
 
In an all-black silhouette
 
of a means trains end
 
 
Hear that whistle
 
Hear it call
 
It waits for none to jump aboard
 
Aboard we go
 
Ridin freedoms train, to parts
 
Unknown
 
 
Hold on baby
 
Here I come
 
I left Lancaster this morning’s done
 
 
I’ll ride all night
 
Into the morning sun
 
And if the conductor don’t see
 
I’ll be home to make the day’s easy breeze
 
 
Hear that whistle
 
Hear it call
 
Sorry I think I just may be late after all
 
Just may be late after all
 
Cause my heart and soul
 
Ride the rails
 
A hobo I am
 
And I write this tale

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