There’s a 3 AM train outside my windowpane and the steam fogs against the glass

Swirling in streams of fever and dreams, gathered above the grass

The dark wood door beckons and there’s only ten seconds till the procession will make it’s next stop

I’m still half asleep but my destined feet leap and out the doorway I drop

The conductor is pulling the lever and mulling: I’m the carousel leader of doom

He takes his pride in the echoing stride of the barefooted who enter this room

I step onboard and follow accord the steps of the traveled dark road

There are people on here who sleep without fear, having laid down their wearisome load

I take a plush seat and put up my feet, but my heart is still riddled with fright

The chilling train roars and shuts all it’s doors and we take off into the night

I’m a child on my way to shaping the clay that holds the seal of tomorrow

My hands are small but they’re molding things tall and I’ll break the statue of sorrow

I look around twice and my soul chills to ice, I’m the only youth I can see

I pound on the glass but can never look back; this train will not hear my plea

There’s a lady beside me who looks far inside me and sees the readiness I lack

She knowingly smiles, and looks back at the child standing outside waving back

It’s full speed ahead, the destination I dread, but this mother will listen to my doubts

My face is weathered, my soul is tethered, and the voices are calling me out

The crowd is before me, to love or deplore me, as I step off to my reward

The child in my past is gone from me at last as the conductor says, “Welcome aboard.”