Seems I been laying here so long
I've heard trains come and gone
Trying to figure right from wrong
Time moves like a wordless song
It's just like time has stopped
Last thing I saw was Little Round Top
Thunder of cannon, the singing of a sabot
Crossed the rail fence, never reached the top
I hear the rifles roaring all night long
Thinking 'bout right from wrong
Wondering who's left, who's gone
Hearing the fly's one long drone
Later I heard a man make a speech
Just wasted words to feed the grief
Talked for hours to hear himself speak
While the crowd grew tired, heart sore and weak
Then another man spoke and summed it up
Said just to make it here we've lived with luck
Through right or wrong, we've paid too much
And the hardest part was still coming up
A colored man nailed the lid humming a song
Said "He probably don't know why he's here
Like you and me, just knows something's wrong
All we have left now is loss and fear
"Time we start stacking these boys in the boxcar
From floor to ceiling, they're going home"
I just know there's a peace after traveling so far
I can't wait to see mama, it's been so long
That's the strangest thing, when the bugler plays now
Somehow I know it's over but don't ask me how
And I don't care who won from pumpkin to clover
All the happiness in the world's been plowed over
I must have drifted off a while
Probably still asleep and dreaming
I was on the outside of the train now
It was covered in a strange blue light
I see the engineer come by
Wearing robes and a long beard
Things were moving too fast to talk
But I heard him say, "Get on boy, were going home"
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Author Notes
A sabot is a device used in a firearm or cannon to fire a projectile, such as a bullet, that is smaller than the bore diameter, or which must be held in a precise position.
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