Trainyard Magic
In the trainyard, the boxcars sit
Ive been sneaking in since I was a kid
with a bag of paint and a camera for flicks
I paint a name either long or quick
as I walk the freightlines, treasures I find
pieces of artwork, so many kinds
pictures of the past, pieces done by the greats
rare writings and monkiers all on these freights
Ive met some men who ride the rails
some carry streak markers and love to share tales
some are just riding, all on their own
turning up wherever, which is where they call home
theres a real kind of magic within the yards
a hidden museum, travelling afar
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