It's been an age since I posted a song here, so apologies if I've got the protocol wrong.
I was originally going to call this one The Hobo's Lament until I realised I wasn't writing about hobos at all, and that it was actually about all of us who wander endlessly searching for that something which is always just out of sight and out of reach.
Played on the Tanglewood TW40, which is just an unbelievably lovely guitar.
Wherever That Might Be
We couldn’t find wood so we put cardboard on the fire
Billy Slim had a pint of gin that kept us warm for an hour
A train rolled by about midnight and we all sat and stared
And wondered if we’d missed the gift that would get us out of there
Wherever that might be
My ankle hurt and there was dirt, in my hair and eyes
There were cuts on my face from a sweet embrace with the night-stick guy
And I’d never been, or so it seemed, so all alone
Every one of us had an alias, we’d left our names at home
Wherever that might be
You choose your train, and you choose your track, make your getaway
But at the end of the line, the train turns back, and it’s the same old day
Your only wish, to be somewhere else, somewhere free
Wherever that might be
My old friend, Jack the Tend, found a job in Santa Fe
Wiping down, clearing up, dirty plates and cups, putting a little bit away
So I took a bus till my money gave up, then I hopped a train
But somewhere in the craziness I thought I’d had enough and I was lost again
Wherever that might be
The fire grew low and the talk got slow and clouds cloaked the sky
And my bones felt old and my hands were cold and so I said goodbye
I made my way to the gentle grade where the trains slowed down
And on the edge of the yard with hope in my heart I left that town
Wherever that might be
Chorus
A thousand times we rode the lines and watched each other go
And with each goodbye I thought that I should have chosen a different road
Wherever that might be
