| The New York Central Railroad was something in her day
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| A million tons of coal and steel must have passed this way
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| The ghost of some old engineer
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| Walks this earth and you might hear
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| When looking down on all those lights
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| «Could I see your ticket please?»
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| When it’s gone it’s gone
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| But the echoes just go on and on and on
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| We send it out like our breath
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| And somebody takes it in, somebody takes it in
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| Someone
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| In the age of possibility, cheap gas, John Glenn and tube TV
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| When Martin walked many miles to stand beside Gandhi
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| But faith was stoned with cans and rocks
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| And the neighbor kid came home in a box
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| Now we don’t believe so much of everything we hear
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| When it’s gone it’s gone
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| But the echoes just go on and on and on
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| We send it out like our breath
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| And somebody takes it in, somebody takes it in
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| Someone
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| Tomorrow’s just too far to see
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| To far to know to love or grieve
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| Every action is received
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| Like a legacy
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| It is our legacy
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| Route 26 was open fields and I remember when
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| Now every town I pass on through
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| Has the same outer skin
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| How could he sell his father’s bones
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| The others did but he just won’t
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| He says «When I am dead you can take it all
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| But for now just let them graze.»
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| When it’s gone it’s gone
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| But the echoes just go on and on and on
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| We send it out like our breath
|
| And somebody takes it in, somebody takes it in
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| Someone |