Horns**** Poem by Neil Young

I woke up on the back seat... those long hypnotic roads had driven me to sleep... had we arrived?

pulling up to a wooden shack... the dim glow of a liquor store... night soaked up our headlights
stepping out... I felt its humid fingers grip... inhaled air drunk on diesel tinged with pine
a long train shunted in the distance... horn blowing... invisible in that thick liquorice night

you returned with cigarettes and coke... had a smoke... talking between drags
we climbed back into the cool interior of your air-conditioned red saloon
the train seemed more distant now... still blowing in the night... a siren song calling us

we were lost... driving from Houston to Lake Charles... somewhere near the Texas border