| Mornings feel so damn sad these days
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| Without the call of the 8:15
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| That old familiar echo has finally died away
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| Leaving nothin' but a chill
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| Where there once was a mighty scream
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| And I’ve watched the flat cars take away our timber
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| I’ve watched the coal cars steal our rock
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| And now that we’ve got nothin' left to take, we’re told
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| That the wheels will stop turnin'
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| The whistles will stop blowin'
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| These foolish dreams must stop
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| Last year they closed down the post office
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| Took the only flag we had in town
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| That old brick building still stands like a Cenotaph
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| To a vision lost and buried in a very distant past
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| 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 nothin' left to take, we’re told
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| That the wheels will stop turnin'
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| The whistles will stop blowin'
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| These foolish dreams must stop
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| The longest train I’d ever seen
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| Was the train that you were on
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| I walked you to the station
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| We kissed and you were gone
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| I dream at night about your comin' home
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| The train in the station, your uniform on fire
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| As you step onto the platform
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| The band plays a little louder
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| And as we embrace, your cap falls off
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| Oh, I guess these foolish dreams must stop
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| Mornings feel so damn sad these days
|
| Without the call of the 8:15
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| Looks like this town is finally gonna die away
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| Leavin' nothin' but broken promises
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| Where there once was small town dreams
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| 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 nothin' left to take, we’re told
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| That the TV station will be closin'
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| Main Street windows will need boardin'
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| That these foolish dreams must stop |