(Michael Timmins)



Mornings feel so damn sad these days

without the call of the 8:15

That old familiar echo

has finally died away

leaving nothing but a chill

where there once was a mighty scream



And I've watched the flat cars

take away our timber

I've watched the coal cars steal our rock

And now that we've got

nothing left to take we're told

that the wheels will stop turning,

the whistles will stop blowing,

these foolish dreams must stop



Last year they closed down the post office,

took the only flag we had in town

That old brick building

still stands like a cenotaph

to a vision lost and buried in

a very distant past



And I've watched the flat cars

take away our timber

I've watched the coal cars steal our rock

And now that we've got

nothing left to take we're told

that the wheels will stop turning,

the whistles will stop blowing,

these foolish dreams must stop



The longest train I've ever seen

was the train that you were on

I walked you to the station,

we kissed and you were gone

I dream at night about you coming home

The train in the station,

your uniform on fire

as you step onto the platform

the band plays a little louder,

and as we embrace your cap falls off

Oh, I guess these foolish dreams must stop



Mornings feel so damn sad these days

without the call of the 8:15

Looks like this town is finally 

going to die away

leaving nothing but broken promises

where there once was small town dreams



And I've watched the flat cars

take away our timber

I've watched the coal cars steal our rock

And now that we've got

nothing left to take we're told

that the TV station will be closing,

Main Street windows will need boarding,

that these foolish dreams must stop