Pictures flicker past in black & white.
I’ve witnessed men’s ideals grow old & die
like fruit picked long before it were ripe
or left to wither in the cold.

The billow & brume impede my sight:
the film & fog & cobwebbed sleight.
I’m forever damned to change my mind,
& I’ve forgotten every face.

But there’s destiny to manifest
like locomotives tramplin’ west,
a holy history the industry blessed
spewed forth from smokestack pipes...

another fragmented thought
I’ll try to sleep off tonight.

All the politicians who rubber-stamped
the sooty air, the stench of death;
the tycoons who heaped on poor folks’ backs
the fortunes they had made,
& then forgot the men who died to make
the means of progress’ tracks run straight:
that train of thought which always makes
its way back to the start.

Now my forehead pounds, my stomach aches:
the push & pull of pride & shame
& some trouble I can’t readily name,
but the future came & hovered, grey,
like a cloud. & though I’m grey,

I’ve got the red white & blues.


Lyrics submitted by besidesxspace

Locomotives song meanings
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