written by Everett Dumas
He’d ride his dropped, chopped banana bike through the monkey trails at night
He drank his first can of Bud up on Treasure Hill
He’d throw rocks down at the frog pond Well he used to get a thrill hoppin’ on a train, somewhere in Central Maine
Now there’s rusty tracks and tall, gray grass growing up between the rails and empty cars. He says
That train don’t run by here no more
They just closed down the country store
And the mill shut down about a year before that
No the train don’t run by here no more
There’s footprints in the concrete where his father used stand
He followed in his shoes, making paper for the news.
He did his job with pride, it choked him up inside to be American, American
Now there’s no more smell of sulfur, no more pulp trucks hauling logs and empty cars He says
That train don’t run by here no more
They just closed down the country store
And the mill shut down about a year before that
No the train don’t run by here no more
Crooked politicians, whom we’ve sent to represent.
Deals are made made, unfair trade meant for the one percent
They make the laws and bend ’em, they take the jobs and send ’em down to Mexico. Mexico
They watch their profits soar, selling war, all while they point their fingers at the poor and their empty cars ’cause..
That train don’t run by here no more
They just closed down the country store
And the mill shut down about a year before that
No the train don’t run by here no more
He loves this town his whole family can be found in it’s sacred ground
Everybody gather ’round, the smokestack’s coming down…
That train don’t run by here no more
They just closed down the country store
And the mill shut down about a year before that
No the train don’t run by here no more
No, they just closed down the country store
And the mill shut down about a year before that
No the train don’t run by here no more
