Poverty and Art
Another Train is pretty much about trying to work on a song while the world is falling apart all around you. When you grow up poor, Art is insane. It's wonderful and magical, but it's created by magical "others" who live in a world where they are free to create, instead of worrying about rent and bills. I now understand how freaked out my mother was by my need to persue music as a career. She knew the odds, and she also knew how wonderfully free a decent salary can make your life. She longed for the freedom to have food on the table and a little dignity at the end of the day. She spent her tortured life in agony about the basics falling apart and her and her son on the street. All the while I was dreaming of being the Beatles. How strange.
It got stranger as I met and worked with many musicans. Mostly, Art to them was a product of the freedom of their oppulant lives. No trips to the cabin this week we need to rehearse , Still I didn't really get it. Some people just have to create, no matter what the circumstances. Its very heroic in a way. Its a lot against nature. It is an attempt to feel the power of God. Let's make something new and totally unnecessary out of what we have on the table and see how that feels.
All my mother's angry pacing nights never paid a bill or improved her life. But I think it helped me define want was really important in life and that is "to create".
ANOTHER TRAIN
A mother tries to tell her son,
where she’s been and what she’s done,
She never can reveal a thing
and hates herself for makin such a scene.
The wild enchanted world awaits,
he’s itching so, to cr'ash the gate,
Through all the long and sleepless nights,
she pictures him in senseless bloody fights.
IF ITS ALL THE SAME TO YOU
I’LL JUST TAKE ANOTHER TRAIN
His father who’s been far away,
shows up inside his head one day,
His questions pierce her very soul,
truth is one thing no one can control.
She makes him toast and irons his clothes,
he learns there’s things he’ll never know,
He goes to bed with doubts so deep,
dreams of vengeance, one day they’ll all see.
IF ITS ALL THE SAME TO YOU
I’LL JUST TAKE ANOTHER TRAIN
years fall down like dying leaves,
they never fill a hole this deep,
the need for someone never seen ,
consumes his heart and burns relentlessly………..
Bar to bar and bed to bed,
a child is born the dream is dead,
He never can reveal a thing
and hates himself for creating such a scene.
IF ITS ALL THE SAME TO YOU
I’LL JUST TAKE ANOTHER TRAIN,
