Let’s say love is a train,
with passengers who presume to know where they wish to go.
They believe it has solid tracks
which outside forces cannot alter.
They hope it has strength and power,
so it will not stop, will not falter.
A one-way journey trundling
towards a private destination,
your bounty of happiness and trust –
a personalized railway station.
And if love is this allegorical train,
well today baby, I’m your driver and I’ve lost control.
We’re about to cruise at breakneck speed
and take a detour through your soul.
We’ll career dangerously near to the thresholds
of my pleasure and your pain,
I’m gonna make you sick, you’d better jump quick,
‘cos honey, I’m about to crash your train.
There ain’t no more stops, no more vanity shops,
we lost the marriage, the baggage, and buffet car.
I’m sick of sticking to the rules
only to watch you shrug them off,
this time sweetheart you’ve gone too far.
“If I can’t have you, no-one will!” – a cliché,
I’ll carry out to the bloody end.
So sit back, relax, and remember your words –
“I’m never gonna leave you, I’m your only friend.”
We’ve a few moments to reminisce,
the bad times that we’ll miss,
before we thunder into that wall just around the bend.
Yeah, that’s right, love is a terminal train,
with plexi-glass and padded walls,
and passengers who are quite insane.
So remember that in your next life when
you destroy your next husband or your next wife;
when your happy glow is sunshine shimmering,
when wild fire burns down the forest of lust,
when icy silences leave your mind shivering,
when the blues of break-up feel like a rain of the un-just.
Remember these words, and remember this pain,
‘cos baby – I’ve just crashed your train.
M.R. Hume © 1992