| Steep is the water tower
|
| painted off blue to match the sky
|
| can’t ignore the train
|
| night walks in the valley silent
|
| you could swear the earth just moved
|
| can’t ignore the train
|
| dust to be kicked up in the crack faced
|
| idle sinister town
|
| screen door to the rail station
|
| devil in her shoe
|
| ran along side the wasted tracks
|
| hem pins darted her calves
|
| can’t ignore the train
|
| one spoiled girl with the tidiest apology
|
| some how wedged inside her throat
|
| can’t ignore the train
|
| patience their virtue
|
| but I never could abide by that
|
| dungeon life with electric light
|
| a clean towel and a basin
|
| mantle figures mind their place
|
| laughs where they belong
|
| through adventure we are not adventuresome
|
| rage to share with a wardrobe mirror
|
| in a room so beige and cold
|
| can’t ignore the train
|
| window days saw the children pick their
|
| street games on thirty afternoons
|
| Molly the boys are
|
| starting in the rhymic again
|
| teasing more and more…
|
| the second daughter
|
| how she fell
|
| young locked in Some Folk’s Prison
|
| made to dwell
|
| til they’re braiding
|
| her grey hair
|
| sitting in the wishing chair
|
| sitting in the wishing chair
|
| sitting in the wishing chair |