Boxcar Blues Lyrics

Well I was stranded in a boxcar, east of Vegas, west of Maine

Trying hard to maintain consciousness before I went insane

It was a house with missing windows, a lookout with no view

In a place where you can search for days and still find nothing new

Getting lonely was a pastime. Being dizzy was a trade

Confinement in the darkness like a sunflower in shade

It was in the time of cola wars, when snob appeal was free

And the astronauts were spinning, falling swiftly to the sea

The cold war searched for melting pots, the missiles chased their mates

And men and women scanned physicians' records before dates

It was a time of no confusion when important things were plain

And I was stranded in a boxcar when they asked me to explain

Waiting in the desert, pressed for a cause

Searching for a hobo, disguised as Santa Clause

Burning up with misery, and angry at myself

Worried about the altitude, while ignoring all my health

There isn't much to stir up; the mixing bowl is dry

And everybody wonders why I long to touch the sky

Your furniture and accoutrements are silly and obscene

And you never know just who you are until your lawn is green

You always state the obvious, you never chance to dig

Like a news report that's on the scene or a jazzman at a gig

Your feelings are like discussions taking place beneath the flesh

Your heart is like a broken twig, a deteriorating success

I can feel your naked anger in the emptiness I hold

But I'm still too shy to look in the eye of a blood that runs so cold

You can't get high on solitude until you're overwrought

Believing in the things you know but never have been taught

The emptiness is evident; it's an often-showered stain

You can't believe that the blood on your sleeve is a mirror of your brain

Now I do a lot of thinking about my will to live

And I realize that otherwise I'd lose the will to give

I breathe in stagnant places; I talk to dead guitars

I associate with people who haven't driven cars

I get burned up when a person who hasn't found a place

Pollutes the worlds of other men who wish to state their case

I describe it as a virus, quite unknown and still obscure

While the wasted pets of fancy dogs get smart and go on tour

I told them that their piece of mind got lost between my toes

And that people filled with stature should be safe before they doze

I pleaded with the powers that be to help me and abstain

But everyone kept laughing at the boy upon the train

Afraid of all this relevance, I staggered to my feet

And I cursed the man that put this silly boxcar in the street

Then the walls all turned to plate glass; I shuddered at the sight

Of all my childhood heroes taking refuge in the night

And while the peaceful men get broken, I get awesome and complain

Don't swing your bloody wrecking ball at this boxcar in the rain