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When the Train Left Grimsby for Good MAG
I heard the droning moan once more
As speed and distance whisked it away.
Tempted to run, to chase what's mine,
But I was locked by my feet, by those railroad ties.
Disarray within its wake, leaving me with
Disheveled hair, and me merely standing there.
Boxcars whiz by, withholding the brake
Though I always wake up as households sleep on.
Like the echoing note an orchestra plays,
The vibrations resound in my fingertips.
Because it's the sound of that powerful roar,
I long to hear it, I long to hear it once more.