I am riding on a limited express.
One of the crack trains of the nation.
Hurtling across the prairie
Into the blue haze and dark air
Go fifteen all-steel coaches
Holding a thousand people.
One of the crack trains of the nation.
(All the coaches, all shall be scrap and rust
And all the men and women laughing
In the diners and sleepers, all shall pass to ashes.)
I ask a man in the smoker where he is going
And he answers "Omaha."