| Oh, I guess they’ll say I’ve grown |
| I know more than I wanted to know |
| I’ve said more than I wanted to say |
| I’m headed home |
| Yeah, but I’m not so sure |
| That home is a place |
| You can still get to by train |
| So I’m looking out the window |
| And I’m drifting off to sleep |
| With my face pressed up against the pane |
| With the rhythm of my heart |
| And the ringing in my ears |
| It’s the rhythm of the southbound train |
| Oh, where the wind starts to look like her hair |
| And the clouds in her bright blue eyes |
| As the sea and the shore fall and rise |
| Like her breast as she breathes by my side |
| And the moon is her lips as the sun |
| Is headed on down to the sea |
| Like her head as she lays down on me |
| Until we reach ocean side |
| Over and over, I hear the same refrain |
| It’s the rhythm of my heart |
| And my sleepy girl’s breathing |
| It’s the rhythm of my southbound train |
| Oh, I suppose they’ll say I should’ve known |
| Or maybe I’m just feeling old |
| Like a lawyer with no one to blame |
| I’m headed home |
| Yeah, but I’m not so sure |
| That home is a place |
| That’ll ever be the same |
| So we gather up our things |
| And we head out in the cold |
| And your eyes are where you carry the pain |
| When I hear the whistle weeping |
| It’s crying to the sky |
| It’s the rhythm of my southbound train |
| It’s the rhythm of my southbound train |