Switching Yard (S. Storms) Whistle stop in Kansas, hoppers filled with grain Sunset on the prairie, smell of the coming rain Diesel starts to rumble, it's leaving I do best I'll ride the rails forever, till I find a place to rest Saw her on the siding, alone in the pouring rain Another wandering pilgrim, her eyes so full of pain Held her ragged suitcase, her grip on it was hard She took my hand, climbed aboard till we reached the switching yard Getting here ain't easy, offers no relief When the whistle blows it's time to go, my stay here's always brief Miles of track before me, fate I'm free to roam Right back to the switching yard to find my way home Went down to the bunkhouse, talked till the break of dawn Thanks for the helping hand, she said, but I gotta keep moving on Memory of her fading with every pull of wine Behind me stands the switching yard, I'm heading down the line Start for Tuscaloosa, leave for Santa Fe Doesn't really matter, end up here anyway First step I take leaving brings me back again Always where I'm heading, forever where I've been