You may not believe it
But I dont believe in miracles anymore
And when I think about it
I dont believe I ever did for sure
All the things Ive said in songs
All the purple prose you bought from me
Realitys just black and white
The sentimental things Id write
Never meant that much to me

I used to be the main express
All steam and whistles heading west
Picking up my pain from door to door
Riding on the storyline
Furnace burning overtime
But this train dont stop,
This train dont stop,
This train dont stop there anymore

You dont need to hear it
But Im dried up and sick to death of love
If you need to know it
I never really understood that stuff
All the stars and bleeding hearts
All the tears that welled up in my eyes
Never meant a thing to me
Read em as they say and weep
Ive never felt enough to cry

When I said that I dont care
It really means my engines breaking down
The chisel chips my heart again
The granite cracks beneath my skin
I [bad word] into pieces on the ground