When everything has been said and done
and to hope is just impractical.
When there’s no way to keep going
and we can only look back.

Rust can’t be enjoyed when it’s the only thing left.
No more depressive songs will do.
It’s the end of the rail line.
And it’s safe to hate when it’s over.

All the paths you could have taken,
all the stations that weren’t visited
and all the trains you’ve mistaken-
At least the fight is over.


I don’t know if you were sold
or if you always roamed free.
You don’t seem to like people
-deep inside I know you fear them.
That you just want your greens.
It’s sad because you’ve got far
yet there may be no rewards for pioneers.
I hate that nobody will care when you die.