Brandon Records

Songwriting Hall of Fame

Augie March - This Train Will Be Taking No Passengers

Train!

Train! 

We will adjust to this new condition of living
Like a man with his entrails now out him, not in,
After certain techniques of torture accustoms himself
To a new condition of living

Train!

Thoughtful, godless men find God in them at the age of 25
In a year, Death gains favor, and they think themselves the more alive
You'll find them in the loose caboose where the pills are kept and the stupid juice
This one has a sleeping wheel, this one has a willing noose

Onward and on, to the ends of love
Pricked vanity, habit and ruse
Onward and on, to a premature silence
Where death finds too much use

Fifteen year-old whores in training
Eyes a-batting, arms a-flailing
Skin aflame, this fire fanning
Express if you're on board
Amazement follows fear and rounded by dismay
It takes the corner into the day after today
Which is a father's sorrow

Onward and on, to the ends of meanness
Where kindness is the means of the earth
Onward and on, awakening finds us
Too sensual beings from birth

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, lady
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, lady
I'm sorry, lady

Train!

Pods of wealthy, blonde gobbets with their red-rind eyes
Getting pecked at by the heroin sparrows of the western skies
It may be married to the tracks, but this train flies
And it's taking no passengers

We'll stand on his hand, that's how you pin your man
We'll smash him from Preston to Epworth

Onward and on, to the ends of reason,
Where malice is the means of the earth
Onward and on, this strange-wrought bird
Onward and over the black-coffee earth
Onward and on, this laughing train
To the ends of its low, low mirth

Where the media make it with the media whores
Lady Time minces man-meat with her contract claws
For a barbecue with the veterans of the talkback wars
In the outback palace of one John Laws

O, we will adjust to this new condition of living
Like a sailor with his hands tied behind his back
Imprisoned after sailing into foreign waters, unawares
Accustoms himself to a new condition of living

But a shadow falls between this hurtling intent
And its realization for its government
Is rotten and therefore its civilization
Which is certainly taking no passengers

Train!

Train!

Train!

Train!

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