Well, the last time I remember
that train stopping at the depot,
Was when me and my Aunt Veta
came riding back from Waco,
I remember I was wearing
my long pants and we was sharing
conversation with a man
who sold ball-point pens and paper.
And the train stopped in Clifton,
Where my aunt bought me some ice cream,
And my Mom was there to meet us,
When the train pulled into Kopperl.
But now kids at night break window lights,
And the sound of trains only remains,
In the memory of the ones like me,
Who have turned their backs on the splintered cracks
in the walls that stand on the railroad land,
Where we used to play and then run away
from the depot man.
I remember me and brother
used to run down to the depot,
Just to listen to the whistle
when the train pulled into Kopperl;
And the engine big and shiny,
black as coal that fed the fire,
And the engineer would smile and say,
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