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Lyrics
Keeping Track
(Chip Greene)
I was six years old, on a blistered country road
And Papa was my best friend
He'd lead me down when we heard the whistle sound
To watch the train comin' around the bend
Then we'd walk the fat tracks, bagging old railroad spikes
Till we reached the other end
We had ourselves a ball
Kings of the rails, trying to keep track of it all
Turned thirteen, and I could taste the gasoline
As he put the keys in my hand
"There's a little bit of luck still left in this old truck"
And I began to understand
Then we crossed those fiery tracks without ever looking back
Into the wide-open arms of the Land
Till night began to fall
Kings of the rails, trying to keep track of it all
Black October Sunday afternoon
I knew it would end,
But I didn't expect it to
End so soon
Twenty-four now, resting on a rusty plough
In the shadow of the factory
Our green frontier has disappeared,
A darkened irony
Now I walk the tracks solo, and the fields lie fallow
Lonesome train whistle memory
So easy to recall
The days when we stood tall
Kings of the rails, trying to keep track of it all
©2002 CHIP GREENE
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