Fighting for love in this sentimental train,
The ride is harsh, but conditions are plain.
Its in my mind that I'm going insane,
Because the girl I love is loved in vain.
Who knows what, where, or when?
Who can tell me who, why, and how?
I have no place to breath in this hot den,
And the train begins to disavow me now.
I'm riding on the sentimental train,
I have no bags or flags to share my pain.
Roving vagabonds I pass say I'm strong and smart,
But they don't really know I have a heart.
The ones who pass me stare at me
Making faces to make me want to flee.
I keep my mind clear and near
To show them I wont disappear.
But my ex-girlfriends, friends and lovers;
Are unclear and confused under the covers
And remain there, trying to recover
While I find some other lovers.
Aboard the sentimental train,
My mind can't face the strain
Of seeing the trecherous souls
That filled the walls with holes.
As I walk along the halls, running into famous fellows,
I see Shakespeare drunk and real mellow.
I call his name and he returns, with quite a loud bellow.
His squall fills the hallway, and the sound is like a cello,
With its strong and furious hounds,
Barking with a sound that is beautifully profound.
"What are you doing here?" I ask,
"I've come to see you fall apart,
To write a play about it and then depart."
"What will you call it?" I inquire,
He says," The Man With No Desire."
I reply,"I like it", and then retire.
