Union Pacific still rolls through downtown,
It ain’t much, never was, will never be.
On the corner, canary shack still leans,
Guards rusted steel rails at Front and Center…
Train ain’t pulled in since 1963.

Across those tracks, it’s been a barn, tool shed,
After the War, leased to the farmers’ Grange.
Cheap flophouse for brakemen, cowboys, drifters…
On most nights you could hear old Joe pick a tune.
Now they dish out twenty-dollar barbecue,
Beef brisket, wine-bar atmosphere is so strange.

Woody, I’m not too sure
Where or how far to take your song…
Is this what our dreams were meant to be?
Another whistle stop
Between Palestine and Eden
Wind down before a wild night in Austin…
Let’s take one more ride, you and me.

Authentic plastic spurs decorate walls,
While you eat as much catfish as you dare.
Honky-tonk jangles, sip an import beer,
Flakes of blood-shot paint make past feel closer,
Corrugated steel, Texas Railroad Barbecue…
As you drive away, wave goodbye like you care.

It’s thirty miles from bright lights, city bars
Fast lane’s just two blocks back from where you came.
Can’t buy a ticket, catch a ride no more,
Screaming Eagle ain’t stopped in forever.
Since then, this rail town dried up, just the same.