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Chris Murray
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F-Train
Well, the LED is hazy, the mirror's face is smeared,
Poundin' on the window, today's bad news is here.
This early in the morning, one thing is crystal clear,
Working for a living aint my dream career.
But here I go, again, to sacrifice the next day
To higher up the food chain, running for the F-Train.
Yeah, gossips at the office, are singing in my ear,
The gaf will make a profit, I'm trained, it's not sincere.
And the bullshit of the bosses flows swiftly down to here,
And all day long I'm thinking, 'Get me out of here!'
But here I go, again, fumblin' for loose change,
Trying to get the rent paid, running for the F-Train.
Running for the F-Train.
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Will my youthful days be wasted? While all that happens here:
Days turn in to months and the weeks turn in to years.
This feelin' in my stomach grows seven shades past fear,
Kickin' back the larger, don't make it disappear.
But here I go, again, waking with a dull pain,
Just another morning, running for the F-Train. Yeah.
Here I go, again, nothing but the same thing,
Soaking up the cold rain, running for the F-Train.
And here I go, again, it's time to get movin',
And face another morning, running for the F-Train. Yeah.
And here I go, again, and here I go, again,
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