Postcard

I wish you were here but you were not alone
Simple pleasures that’s our bone
What’s that I smell?
It’s Death’s cologne
Trains to Moscow
Trains to Rome
I get no thanks so I’m going home
I love the trains go rambling home
Past mounds of dust where Lincoln died
Often I don’t want to go
Sometimes I can’t help myself
I can’t help myself
I can’t help myself
I can’t help myself
I can’t help myself!
Trains to Moscow
Trains to Rome
I get no thanks so I’m going home
Goodbye!