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NANCI GRIFFITH >> Merchandise Links
NANCI GRIFFITH
(Nanci Griffith & Eric Taylor) Down at the station the tracks are cold The wheels of thunder, they roll no more And the heart of America cries for the souls Who won't be rollin' home The dragon weeps with empty eyes, The whistle sighs no more in the night... It rests in the lines, like a ghost in the music, The soul of America's pride Toil of our fathers with foreign hands, They laid the tracks and they opened the plains They fought the mountains and they merged our seas They set America free Tell me,... Where is the blaze of the hobo's caldron? The refuge for these poor and these fallen? It rests in the lines, like a ghost in the music, The soul of America's pride Foreign father... American son, father see what your son has done He's torn up the mountains And reshaped the plains The dreams he dreams aren't the same To the fallen ones who may still be askin, "Who'd take time to stir these ashes, Who'll hear the lines of a ghost in the music And kindle America's pride?" Tell me,... Where is the blaze of the hobo's caldron? The refuge for these poor and these fallen? It rests in the lines, like a ghost in the music, The soul of America's pride.
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