The train whistle echoes through the soft morning air

Calling my dreams to the rails it would share.

Where it is going, I don’t know or care

Yet I long to just pay my fare

And hop on that train going somewhere.

To leave behind my rocking chair

And ride on that train I care not where.

Perhaps I'd see from my window the desert so bare

Or breathe in my lungs the fresh mountain air.

How I long to ride that train going somewhere.