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Boxcar Blues
I remember my final day in Ballarat
I moved there to pursue a career
And in hindsight,
my ego grew so fat
I was a musician back in Carlisle
And for each song I moved a mile
Which led me to the desert
And an oasis known as Ballarat
A rich haven for small businesses
And so-called “entrepreneurs”
At least that’s what they tell you
When reality hits, you’ll be left blue
So I joined the corporation
It was my own damnation
I admit, I grew rich in money
But I was never happy
I know that now, but not then
On the day I left hell
And made my way to sweet Roselle
It was a dusty Tuesday
Marked by raging storms
The sand in the wind
Marred my vision
So I was left blind
In more ways than one
So that is why
When the train stopped on the track
I left Ballarat
Without a glance back
And it wilted like a flower in the sun.
I took my luggage to my room
Locked the door to keep it safe
And made my way to the dining car
Ordered chopped ham tartare
But as I ate I had a chance to look
See what the train took
The floors consisted of driftwood
Covered in shiny lacquer
The walls of rusted reclaimed metal
The seats were matted down felt
This made me uneasy
And a little queasy
The gold paint on the window bars
Was chipping away
I didn’t want to stay
But before I stood a woman sat
Coupled with a crying baby
Said she was going to see
Her brother by the sea
But we weren’t going to the sea
We were headed for the mountains
I didn’t bother to correct her
It’s not my job to correct people
I’m just an entertainer
But when she asked me
Where I’m going to be
I hardly knew what to say
In complete honesty
I don’t know why I left
I thought a bit and said what I felt
“I’m looking for love
It’s about time I find someone
Cash in on what I deserve”
And she gave me an incredulous look
As if I were some sort of crook
And she proclaimed
“Why? What have you ever done for love?”
Needless to say I was embarrassed
I made my way to the bar
Luckily it wasn’t very far
But they only served moonshine
And I didn’t have the time
So I left behind the rutty bar
I left behind the skiffle band
And looked out my room window
At the passing land
We passed a sundown town
And a couple farms
And as desert slowly gave way
To soft grassland
So began to fade
The summer day.
I awoke the next morning and the train had stopped
This was unexpected, unwelcome
I demanded answers
I demanded compensation
But as I looked, I learned
No one was on the train
I got off and had my first real sight
Of the machine I slept in last night
It was a locomotive, old and junky
The wheels were rusted and clunky
The blemishes in the wood
Were covered by patriotic bunting
It was a ghastly sight
But when I turned around
I was amazed by sight and sound.
The birds were singing
Church bells ringing
Life still prospered in old Carlisle
I was back in my childhood home
All thanks to a fault in the track
What a pleasant setback!
I stood outside town in a meadow
I made my way down to the river
Where I used to pick plums
Thought of the bars I used to play in
Wondered if they were still open
As I stood in the river
Watching the fish spin
Mushrooms grew around here, too
They used to be so colorful
But now they’re just brown
This place was my inspiration
This place was my muse
Back when I sang the blues
It all came back to me on that bank
And I became ashamed I ever left
To pursue corporate rank
As it hit me, this grand epiphany
I heard the train pulling away
I ran up the hill, forgetting my shoes
But the train was so fast
By the time I reached it
Only boxcars were in reach
I pulled myself inside
And took it in stride
The car was very strange indeed
Built of stainless steel
Filled with mahogany crates
And the strangest people
I have ever seen
They were train hoppers
Their clothes weren’t torn
Their hair wasn’t ratty
They were nothing if not genuine
They were playing music
One woman on the sitar
Her music seemed to bend reality
Another on bass
He was howling like a wolf
You could see it in his face
He didn’t just sing the blues
He felt them in his soul
And the group as a whole
Seemed much better off
Than anyone within the main
Of this psychedelic train
They were drinking fine wine
Spiced rum, fortified sherry
And a sight I must have been!
I realized I was a mess
I didn’t care, I guess
They gave me varying looks
I asked “who are you?”
And the woman on sitar stopped
She peered into my very soul
“We are the children of the sun”
She said with conviction
“But more importantly
Who are you?”
“We know him!”
Another chimed in,
“He’s the voodoo child!”
I didn’t know what to make of this
The woman with the sitar continued
“We may know who he is,
But his soul is lost
And he has forgotten himself”
She began playing again
She was a master in her own right
I felt like I didn’t belong
I felt dirty and wrong
So I offered up one final gift
“I come with love to spare”
And they looked at me
With a love in their eyes
I hadn’t recognized in the longest time
And without reason or rhyme
They felt familiar to me
And the howling wolf welcomed me
“You used to sing so loud,”
He declared
“But now you don’t seem so proud.
You have a lonely smile
As if you haven’t loved in a while”
He beckoned me forward
Invited me to play
I could find no words to say
I explained everything I owned
Was in the front of the train
“There’s that familiar moan
Excuses, excuses
Someday you’re gonna have to cry
Be it through tears or guitar
Singing blues or playing sitar
Someday we all have to cry”
He was right, I couldn’t deny
So I picked up a box
Turned it on its side
It had been so long since I’d tried
But I played like never before
I started with a simple beat
And made it harder, faster, better
The bass joined in, and so sitar
And as I opened my mouth
I heard a voice I didn’t recognize
It was more than my own
And had I known
That I had it in me
I would have boarded this train
A long time ago
And so we sang our own tune
Through the mountainside
We came from hell
And ended up
At the sweet hot springs of Roselle
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