In a boxcar along with sacks of grain
Two lost souls rode on through the night
Underneath them lay the steel and wheels
Taking them on a stolen ride
Brought together by the winds of fate
Oblivious as to what for
They stared at the moonlit landscape
Flashing through a half opened door
They talked about dreams they once had
And grandiose plans of tomorrow
They talked of loneliness, despair and regret
With a sadness that cut to the marrow
The younger one said. “My daddy left home before I was born, never got to know him.
My mama told me that he was no count and that he wouldn’t worth missing.”
The older man smiled, tipped his torn, worn hat and said. “Your mama was right, this dad of yours, he ain’t worth the bother.
Cause son, this dirty shell of a beat down man standing before you now, is your scoundrel of a father.”