She ran hard,
she ran fast,
a fallen angel on a weekend pass.
Never look forward, never look back,
a blaze of glory down a one-way track.
I hear the whistle,
I hear the rumble around 2 a.m.
outside my door.
Must be her memory rattling the shutters,
cause that train don't run by here no more.
We went rolling in our wild, wild days.
She kept on going, but I changed my ways.
Now I'm a good boy, and I do what's right.
Still sometimes in the middle of the night.
I hear the whistle,
I hear the rumble around 2 a.m.
outside my door.
Must be her memory rattling the shutters,
cause that train don't run by here no more.
I listen to the last box car,
sweet dreams baby, wherever you are.
I hear the whistle,
I hear the rumble around 2 a.m.
outside my door.
Must be her memory rattling the shutters,
cause that train don't run by here no more.
Must be her memory rattling the shutters,
cause that train don't run by here no more.