BILLY WAS BORN IN A PRAIRIE STORM, DUST TURNED THE WHOLE TOWN BLACK,
DAD LEFT HOME A MONTH BEFORE, AND PROMISED, HE'D BE BACK,
HE SAID I CAN'T MAKE A LIVING OUT OF FARMING DUST, AIN'T NO OTHER JOB
AROUND HERE.
THEN HE TURNED AND CLIMBED ABOARD THE TRAIN, AS SHE FOUGHT BACK THE
TEARS,
WHEN THE DUST HAD SETTLED ON HER DREAMS, MONTHS HAD TURNED TO YEARS,
WITH HIS NOSE TO THE WINDOW OF THAT HIGH-BALLING TRAIN,
THUNDERING CROSS THE PRAIRIES LIKE A HURRICANE,
THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS OUT TO THE PACIFIC SHORE,
LIFE WOULDN'T EVER BE THE SAME NO MORE
NOW LATE AT NIGHT WHEN THE CITY SLEEPS, HE SWEARS HE SOMETIMES HEARS,