Friday, November 27, 2009

This Machine Kills Fascists ! ? ! ?

This is for our friend 8mileshi ! !

1 comment:

  1. Ridin' on the City of New Orleans
    Illinois Central, Monday mornin' rail
    15 cars & 15 restless riders
    Three conductors, 25 sacks of mail

    All along the southbound odyssey the train pulls out of Kankakee
    Rolls along past houses, farms & fields
    Passin' graves that have no name, freight yards full of old black men
    And the graveyards of rusted automobiles

    Good mornin' America, how are you?
    Don't you know me? I'm your native son!
    I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans
    I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done

    Dealin' cards with the old men in the club car
    Penny a point, ain't no one keepin' score
    Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
    And feel the wheels rumblin' neath the floor

    And the sons of Pullman porters & the sons of engineers
    Ride their fathers' magic carpets made of steel
    Mothers with their babes asleep, rockin' to the gentle beat
    And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel

    Good mornin' America, how are you?
    Say don't you know me? I'm your native son!
    I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans.
    I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done.

    Night time on the City of New Orleans
    Changin' cars in Memphis, Tennessee
    Halfway home, we'll be there by mornin'
    Thru the Mississippi darkness rollin' down to the sea

    But all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream
    And the steel rail still ain't heard the news
    The conductor sings his songs again
    "The passengers will please refrain:
    This train got the disappea rin' railroad blues

    Good night America, how are you?
    Say don't you know me? I'm your native son!
    I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans.
    I'll be gone 500 miles when the day is done.

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