Oh so free
Free to fly upon the wings
Of an old smokestack
Bellowing cries of work, deep into the sky
Here it comes
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
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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