Old train rocks me back and forth through the final miles into Manhattan

As a dying summer sun spills over the swamps of the Meadowlands

With a sinister grin and street-smart education, I'm wise enough not to ask what makes that grass grow

There are answers I'll look for, and others I won't

Hands in chains, babies born without names

Black and Blue are tired true and the rest of us insane

Give your nose a break and bite your skin to spite your face

A witty sign and a pic online now who don't like a little change?

Here I am, must have stumbled along the way to end where I'll start from again

Without a plan, I just wandered down the road with my hat in my hand

Old train rocks back and forth through the final mile into Manhattan

As the empty seat in front of me, tattooed with graffiti makes me think

Such an odd thing to write your name on a place you'll leave

But we all just want to be remembered

Ain't it hard, hard to make a difference?

Does anyone have a pen? Go on and forget what I said

Here I am, must have stumbled along the way to end where I'll start from again

Without a plan, I just wandered down the road with my hat in my hand