Fog hangs low on rusted steel ribs
My boots count ties like prayer beads slipped
The yard breathes cold through broken slats
Each clack a note in minor flats
This freight car knows my walking pace
A slow hymn in iron place
No stained glass here just gravel dust
My voice the only thing I trust
Switchman's lantern swings amber wide
I mouth the words I learned inside
The choir loft at Christmas eve
Now traded for a boxcar's leave
This freight car knows my walking pace
A slow hymn in iron place
No stained glass here just gravel dust
My voice the only thing I trust
Coupling pins lock heavy and deep
Promises the midnight keeps
I harmonize with screech and groan
An alto range I call my own
This freight car knows my walking pace
A slow hymn in iron place
No stained glass here just gravel dust
My voice the only thing I trust
Dawn cracks pale through wire and beam
The count resets like morning hymn
Light paints gold on rusted steam
My voice sings out the same old hymn
This freight car knows my walking pace
A slow hymn in iron place
No stained glass here just gravel dust
My voice the only thing I trust
My voice the only thing I trust
Footsteps fade on rusted steel
The last amen I ever feel
