I miss the sound of the train upon the tracks below me
the bitter feeling of the north, biting my ears,
Stepping on the gravel beneath my feet, broke the silence of the air.
Sitting, anticipating the next ten hours of my life I
Watched the trees roll by, little towns unaware of my passing.
Sitting alone listening to sergeant peppers, I was free.
I could do anything and go anywhere,
feeling small, in the snow capped mountains; tracks of wild animals
painted the forest floor. Studying people on the seats next to me
where are they going? What is their story? What a fascinating concept
for as long as I can breathe I will never forget that feeling of being free.