| Union Station, tombstone high
|
| No more tears, this fountain dry
|
| Nameless faces, just headlines
|
| We don’t ride that train no more
|
| No resistance, turn my head
|
| They could go out east instead
|
| Newfoundland, land of my father
|
| I don’t ride your train no more
|
| Cold steel shining, Battle Creek
|
| Eyes are heavy, rain and sea
|
| Massey-Ferguson memories
|
| Don’t ride that train no more
|
| Hey there, captain, is that you
|
| Could you tell me, tell me what to do?
|
| I been twenty years on that Sault line
|
| Now we don’t ride your train no more
|
| Smoke rises from the face of sand
|
| Dreams about, dreams of beaver dams
|
| Sam can’t hear quite like he used to
|
| Tell them why we don’t ride no more
|
| Hey, Pierre Trudeau, oh where are you?
|
| My friend to lead us through
|
| These hard times, oh so much confusion
|
| I don’t hear your train no more
|
| I can’t ride no more
|
| I can’t ride no more
|
| I can’t ride no more
|
| I can’t ride no more |