(Dan Messe)



Someone's waving

Someone's counting

Someone's leaving



There's fifty dollars on this pony

Chase him down these tracks

Well won't nobody take my business

I'll teach you how to come back



I saw one hundred miles of steel over wood and let her go

I filled my pockets up with coal black with mud and let her go



I'll throw my hat off when I beat you

Find it when you're gone



There's straw and cotton around the station

I'll make myself a new one



I held a silver dollar tight inside my fist and let you go

I've counted all the things I've lost that point to this and let you go



The whistle's sounding

You are leaving