Lyrics Trains and Window Collection - Jack Conte

It was a tired morning,
And the sky yawned as I bought a one-way ticket to Salt
Lake City and boarded the 8:05 Amtrak headed Northeast.
The train dipped in and out of the empty gorges whose walls were
Still black from the dynamite blasts that once dug them out of the
Ground, and the window collected the broken images outside (whose
Only purpose left in the physical world was to entertain the endless
Parade of Amtrak voyeurs passing hour after hour through the valley):
A dead sofa, a gasping tire,
And a hoodless Dodge with no wheels
That sat sunken in the red California clay.
Unimpressed, the train marched forward with a pointed tenacity,
Matched only on occasion by a sad artist or an unemployed father of
Three who planted themselves firmly on the tracks and surrendered
Quietly as the train delivered them back to the City of
Ashes, where we're all from, and where we're all eventually going.
Then in an instant the sun set,
And the yellow dusted shadows froze grey,
And dusk swallowed the whole valley without remorse,
Because of course there's nothing really to swallow.
It's just motion: the motion of a steel train and its wide-eyed
Passengers who watch the moments collect one by one on their
Windows, blending seamlessly into
An animation, fleeting and fictional.