Bottle Railway

Nothing but beat-up denim
Hiding in scuffed sneakers
All I've got left is a dime in my shoe
And a head full of hazy memories
Scraps of dignity fading as well
Maybe it was the lonely blues singer on the purple street corner
Or a touch of the melancholy
But I sold my guitar
For a round-trip ticket to nowhere
On that old bottled up railroad
It starts in fits
But it's a long journey to the end
And I keep burning out before I get there
Hastily scrawled lyrics on the backs of greasy spoon diner napkins
Blown out the window
And my beat-up denim heart follows too