You may not believe it, but I don't believe in miracles anymore.
And when I think about it, I don't believe I ever did for sure.
All the things I've said in songs, all the purple prose you bought from me.
Reality's just black and white, sentimental things I'd 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, writing all the storyline, furnace burning all the time.
This train don't stop, this train don't stop.
This train don't stop there anymore.
You don't need to hear it, but I'm dried up and sick to death of love.
You don't need to hear it, but I'm dried up and sick to death of love.
If you need to know it, I never really know.

I 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 them as they say and weep.
I've never felt enough to cry.
I used to be the main express.
All steam and whistles heading west.
Picking up my pain from door to door, writing all the storyline, furnace burning all the time.
...but this train don't stop, this train don't stop.
...this train don't stop.
When I say that I don't care
It really means my engine's breaking down
The chisel chips my heart again
The granite cracks beneath my skin
I crumble into pieces on the ground
I used to be the main express
While steaming whistles heading west
I'm picking up my pain from door to door
I'm riding on the storyline
The furnace burning over time
And this train door will stop
This train door will stop

This train don't stop
This train don't stop there anymore
This train don't stop
No, this train don't stop
This train don't stop there anymore
guitar solo
solo