Boxcar Blues

Well I was stranded in a boxcar, east of Vegas, west of Maine

Trying hard to maintain consciousness before I went insane

It was a house with missing windows, a lookout with no view

In a place where you can search for days and still find nothing new

Getting lonely was a pastime. Being dizzy was a trade

Confinement in the darkness like a sunflower in shade

It was in the time of cola wars, when snob appeal was free

And the astronauts were spinning, falling swiftly to the sea

The cold war searched for melting pots, the missiles chased their mates

And men and women scanned physicians' records before dates

It was a time of no confusion when important things were plain