Sometimes it happens in the afternoon
when I’m working hard—locked in overdrive,
Or maybe at night in my own cocoon,
as I lie awake beside my wife
Everyone has learned to count on me;
I’m nearly always where they think
I’m supposed to be…
When I hear a train moan sweet and low—
the way it always does
Like a secret beckon to every ramblin’
tramp who ever was
Like the howling of a wolf, or the wayward wind—
Reminding me of WHO I AM again.
Seven times I’ve settled down,
and six times now I’ve walked away.
This time I’ve got to try to hold on—
somehow now I’ve got to stay.
But there’s something in my blood that says I go. . .
I wonder if I’ll ever change or if I’ll ever know
(Why) When I hear a train moan sweet and low—
the way it always does—
Like a secret beckon to every ramblin’
tramp who ever was
Like a starry sky on a road that has no end. . .
It reminds me of WHO I AM again.
When I hear a train moan sweet and low—
the way it always does—
Like a secret beckon to every ramblin’
tramp who ever was
Like a mountain lion pacing in his den,
It reminds me of WHO I AM again.
