Once a week I make the drive, two hours east
To check the Austin post office box
And I make the detour through our old neighborhood
See all the Chevy Impalas in their front yards up on blocks
And I park in an alley
And I read through the postcards you continue to send
Where as indirectly as you can, you ask what I remember
I like these torture devices from my old best friend
Well, I'll tell you what I know, like I swore I always would
I don't think it's gonna do you any good
I remember the train headed south out of Bangkok
Down toward the water
I always get a late start when the sun's going down
And the traffic's thinning out and the glare is hard to take
I wish the West Texas Highway was a mobius strip
I could ride it out forever
When I feel my heart break, I almost swear I hear it happen, in fact, clean and not hard
I come in off the highway and I park in my front yard
Fall out of the car like a hostage from a plane
Think of you a while, start wishing it would rain
And I remember the train headed south out of Bangkok
Down toward the water
I come into the house, put on a pot of coffee
Walk the floors a little while
I set your postcard on the table with all the others like it
I start sorting through the pile
I check the pictures and the postmarks and the captions and the stamps
For signs of any pattern at all
When I come up empty-handed the feeling almost overwhelms me
I let a few of my defenses fall
And I smile a bitter smile
It's not a pretty thing to see
I think about a railroad platform
Back in 1983
And I remember the train headed south out of Bangkok
Down, down toward the water
Source Decay Lyrics performed by The Mountain Goats are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Source Decay Lyrics performed by The Mountain Goats is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD