it was the time when all time was halted

short stops in short stacks in Cincinnati

the midnight train rides on with a fever

Nashville might remember these times

we would all like to think

but some of us might never achieve that dream

and I feel sad for them , all of them

all those who couldn’t stand

when told to sit down

all those proud enshroud people

with there irevrent stares

playing losing hands

calling bluffs

it’s so hard sometimes

you forget how far you get

before you fall back

and your tied to the track

with the villain giggling

you ask who I am

but you don’t even know yourself

lets get on with reality

nothing sips so smooth as southern gin

to put a grin on the long face

of back breaking labour

and the surf, the peasent

the man of ignorence

and owner of happyness

he knows nothing of the existential crisis

and that makes me happy

even if I never will be

there is a somewhere

where Sam Cook is playing on the radio

and cupid draws back his bow

and let his arrow go

straight to my lovers heart