| I was alone, and my train was late that night |
| I saw a crumpled man blinded by the life that he treated himself to |
| Crippled from the nights receiving endless beatings that even a house couldn’t |
| endure |
| Palms raised skyward, his meager belongings collected on the floor singing |
| songs to no one about nothing |
| But crying because they mean so much |
| It’s these babblings that keep his life going |
| Keep the nickels flowing deep into his cup |
| There we both were framed in awkward silence |
| And I was in his living room invading his trust |
| He finally said to me that he had one last cigarette to smoke and it was time |
| to give it up |
| But he laughed and added said he wasn’t sure which to give up his life or the |
| habit |
| He said it’s my habits that made my fingers weak |
| When my chances came I couldn’t grab it |
| But it’s my life that makes it hard |
| And when my opportunities were there for free I chose my habits |
| I half smiled and offered the most empathetic nod that I could conjure up |
| And said I hear you brother I’ve got problems too, but words won’t fill your cup |
| I’ve got responsibilities to face and they’re woven tight to my dreams |
| I’ve got more bills to pay than I have time and I’m starting to rip at the seams |
| I’ve got a plan and I know that if I stick to it I can accomplish happiness |
| I’ve got goals that beat my will and lately it’s been hard to accept the |
| challenge |
| And he said, hey man sounds like that’s God talking to you |
| And I don’t know why you can’t see |
| You’re so blind that you can’t spare to make change |
| Because all your focus is on «ME» |
| All wrapped up in your own skin |
| That you can’t help set an old man free |
| I’ve been in your shoes before |
| It feels like it was yesterday if not at all |
| My existence has been a blink |
| And for the life of me I can’t remember what I saw |
| That made so much sense to me |
| Even though I convinced myself that he was totally insane |
| I bent over and lit his cigarette and told him to mind his own business |
| Because I was just waiting for my train |
| And he said, I’ve been waiting here forever just dying in my skin |
| And the only reason your living life is because your curious what’ll happen in |
| the end |
| That might be true but why should I pay my hard earned attention to vagabond |
| doctrine |
| If you’ve got so much knowledge to give why not treat yourself to what you’re |
| offering |
| You probably have lived a hard life, and I apologize |
| But I have my own problems, that you couldn’t understand just like a lot of guys |
| Now, here’s a couple bucks go buy yourself whatever makes you happy |
| Even though I’ve promised myself to not to pay for you to make my city look |
| trashy |
| He refused the money and sat there singing songs of love and hate |
| I crammed the change in my pocket, called him a lunatic and went on with my wait |
| As I stood there hovering near his tiny frame I could feel his eyes judging me |
| sadly |
| It’s as if he had to convince me that my life was on the wrong track, |
| and I needed it badly |
| And I said hey old man your cigarettes all smoked up it’s time for you to leave |
| He looked at the trail of ash on his shirt and smiled as if it gave him some |
| sort of relief |
| He propped himself up, collected his life and got prepared to become one with |
| the night |
| Before he left he turned around and wished me luck with all my plans |
| And said something about learning to walk before I ran |
| Before I knew it he was out of my sight, and I had already forgotten his |
| reasonings |
| I could hear my train coming and home was on my mind not his cryptic meanings |
| And then another traveler was on the platform and for some reason he was |
| running towards me |
| All I could see was his eyes, but it’s his words that will always stick with me |
| Through his heavy breaths he asked if I had just spent time with the old man |
| I nodded in affirmation and tried to calm him, so he could tell me why he ran |
| And he said, hey man, that was God talking to you |
| How could you not see? |
| That was God talking right to your face trying to hand you the keys |
| He was right here and I can’t understand why you chose to make him leave |
| He just died in my arms right outside the station and said you were his only |
| friend |
| He begged me to tell you about his life, make you see the light, |
| give you your chance again |
| I cringed at the reality that was facing me |
| I told the man I had no time for this and on my way I had to be |
| Right about that time my train pulled up and I made my escape |
| I sat in the empty plastic seat, and held tight to my fate |
| That was decades ago, and now I sit singing on my own platform |
| My belongings stowed tightly in my bags handing out my sad sad songs |
| And I say it’s my habits that make my fingers weak |
| When my chances come I can’t grab them |
| But it’s my life that makes it hard |
| And when my opportunities are there for free I choose my habits |
| I have no responsibilities and as a result I no longer need my dreams |
| I don’t have any bills to pay it’s like I’m free but I’m really in captivity |
| I don’t have any plans except to just sit here and try and weather the storm |
| I wish I had goals but if I had those then I wouldn’t be here warning you on my |
| platform |
| Singing train songs |