Old paint peels off the depot wall
The winter wind begins to call
I hold a map from eighty two
A faded shade of royal blue
Lines of red and lines of green
The strangest sight I ever seen
Drifting slow across the floor
I don't drive that route no more
The ink is dry the edges torn
A tired city newly born
I remember every single street
Where the asphalt and the river meet
Lines of red and lines of green
The strangest sight I ever seen
Drifting slow across the floor
I don't drive that route no more
A fare once told me keep it straight
He was running far too late
Now the station smells of oil and rust
And the heavy rails are thick with dust
Lines of red and lines of green
The strangest sight I ever seen
Drifting slow across the floor
I don't drive that route no more
The city grows and changes fast
Nothing built is meant to last
I see the ghost of where we go
The traffic moving steady slow
I fold the paper in my hand
A lonely piece of promised land
The depot light is dim and low
I've got a hundred miles to go
Lines of red and lines of green
The strangest sight I ever seen
Drifting slow across the floor
I don't drive that route no more
Just a scrap of royal blue.
No more fares to pull through.
