Night Train

Standard

memengineering
peter lach-newinsky’s word and image lab

Never know what I’ll see on the Night Train

I’ve seen the shells of people long past death

Hanging on to the putrid stench

For a single distant hint

So horrible I can’t think

I let the Night Train carry me deep

So deep that I cannot recognize my face

Gazing at the ruins of a world that’s gone daddy gone

But the beatniks in their shit stained clothes

Play their bongos all night long

On the Night Train

Sometimes I think this night will never end

I’m tired, so tired, tossing and turning in my seat

Is this trip for real? or am I lying in bed?

Longing for sleep.

Kept awake by neon skies and cocky young ghosts

Their voices drone on making me sick

On the Night Train

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