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Click Clack Frick Frack Click Click Clack
Click Clack Frick Frack Click Click Clack
I know better than to turn or ever look back
In a foreign land, I try to relax and watch the sights
But if we fly off the rails, God will turn off our lights
Click Clack Frick Frack Click Click Clack
I fish around in my purse and find my brown sack.
There are a couple of crackers, the cheese is all gone.
What if some psychopath has these timbers half sawn?
Click Clack Frick Frack Click Click Clack
The person across the aisle gives her child a whack.
This reminds me of home, as a matter of fact.
I am ready to return; not truthfully a traveling act.
Click Clack Frick Frack Click Click Clack
We are slowing down. Are we there, Jack?
I have to settle back down we aren’t even close.
But the train feels weird, as if I’m being watched by a ghost.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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