Pulling out of Penn leaving New York City behind We get into Lynchburg at half-past nine On the Crescent to New Orleans down that Northeast Corridor line The train I ride don't take no backsliders All reserved, just ticketed riders Riding in style in my Viewliner You ride through the weeds and you ride through the rust You ride by factories all gone bust ThereÕs nothing left but broken windows and faded signs And old men in bars remembering better times There was the Broadway Limited, the Cannon Ball The Pennsylvania and the New York Central Now itÕs Amtrak running on whatÕs left of the tracks Airplanes are flying, industryÕs dying, and it ainÕt never coming back You built a railroad and you made it run You made it race against time But now we canÕt spare a dime; brother canÕt you just face facts These days in your town there ainÕt no right side to the tracks