All Locomotive, No Tracks Lyrics

All locomotive, no tracks.

Grass has grown amongst my struts.

A bird has made its nest in my stack,

Gathered twigs and a piece of ribbon.

I hear her sing, but I will not give in.

All locomotive, no tracks.

My brothers have traveled to the West,

And some have even come back,

Telling tales of well-oiled living.

I hear them sing, but I will not give in.

The land is wild, no borders welcomed.

The man is vile, his murders wanton.

The bastards will move faster there,

At massive acres, with tracks preferred.

The massacres, the massacres.

All locomotive, no tracks.

All steamed up and nowhere to go—

A third act with no climax.

Head full of steam and nowhere to blow.

Beware illusions of accomplishment.

Daily conclusions of rust and regret.