One last thing I beg you please just before you go;
I've watched you fly on paper wings halfway around the world
until they burned up in the atmosphere and sent you spiralling down,
landing somewhere far from here with no one else around
to catch you falling down, and I'm looking at you now.
And I can't tell if you're laughing;
between each smile there's a tear in your eye.
There's a train leaving town in an hour -
it's not waiting for you, and neither am I.
"Swing for the fences, son," he must have told you once,
but that was a conversation you took nothing from.
So raise your glass now, let’s celebrate exactly what you've done,
just put off another day of knowing where you're from.
You can catch up with yourself if you run.
And I can't tell if you're laughing;
between each smile there's a tear in your eye.
There's a train leaving town in an hour -
it's not waiting for you, and neither am I.
Is this the life that you lead
or the life that's lead for you?
Will you take the road that's been laid out before you?
Will we cross paths somewhere else tonight?
Somewhere else tonight.
And I can't tell if you're laughing;
between each smile there's a tear in your eye.
There's a train leaving town in an hour -
it's not waiting for you, and neither am I.