I hear them clink, clink, clink on the age old tracks
Almost every minute of every hour of every night
It’s a sound that used to be foreign to me
And don’t even get me started on the screeching
And the hooking of the cars, bang, bang
It took a week to realize it’s impossible to drown out
But eventually, just like the rest of the block -
And every ghetto neighbourhood in every city -
In every movie that anyone has seen where pain -
Is like the train, blowing the horn in our faces -
especially at night, when everything else seems
To be silent – hears it as a lullaby
Somewhere inbetween, a day that is dateless,
It has become the sound that is necessary,
To be able to sleep and to be able to dream
And yet, it doesn’t call or know my name
It just is always there, the never ending
Vision of blinking red, dull lights
Only to wake up every morning wondering
Where is the train? Knowing well enough,
Until the next night.
