September in seattle
waiting on a train
And I smoked my last cigarette
standing in out of the rain.
There's a cool wind blowin'
down the alley by the depot
Amtrak down the coastline
to the city of the roses.
Mama's hangin hand me downs
Daddy's in the hotel bar
kids reciting mother goose
running naked through the yard.
You see the best and the worst here
the richest and the poor
from the mansions on the hilltop
to the red dirt floor.
Pull into the station
the sun's settin outside.
The pushers and the pullers
tryin to take you for a ride.
Portland is a small town
with a bitter city smile
and as I walk these streets around
I might just hang here for a while.