The Station

As the rain falls  softly on the ground,
He sits at the station barely making a sound,
He thinks about his life and about his plans,
Does he treat his family better than his old man?
He stopped the drinkin and the smoke,
But a look in the mirror he loses all hope,
If it’s not one vice it’s surely another,
He thinks he grew up colder than his mother,
Lookin at the mistakes he sure has plenty,
The future is blurry but hindsight’s 20/20,
His cup is empty, he walks towards the door,
He looks at his cup and thinks he’ll have one more,
He’s heard life’s not a journey not a destination,
He feels like he hasn’t done a thing but sit in the station,
Watching the trains go by missing the boarding calls,
He sees them come and go but never gets on any at all,
Get busy living or dying it’s time to make up his mind,
So he packs up and takes the train further down the line.