Sunday, 7 February 2016

A Train Called Time

14:43:00 Posted by Sheilagh Dyson , , , 2 comments

A Train Called Time

When I first heard the theme for the week, my thoughts immediately turned to Johnny Cash. Folsom Prison Blues is a classic song and the “Man in Black” an icon.

I was once lucky enough to spend a few days in the city of music that is Nashville, happily ensconced in the company of locals. They were an eclectic bunch of characters, all with the vocal chords of a CMA nominee and the storytelling ability of a National Enquirer journalist. We gathered each evening in a honky-tonk bar, a short stroll along a darkened alley from the famous tourist magnet that is Tootsies Orchard Lounge.

One of the gang was the son of a Nashville treasure. Whilst his mother was toast of the town as host of a primetime radio show, he spent his nights staring into the bottom of a whisky glass in an endless search of a way out of her shadow. His chiselled good looks and musical prowess not providing him with enough ammunition.

The evenings had a formula. Everyone, including the waitresses but excluding me, would take it in turn getting up on stage and singing a country classic. We’d buy beers. We’d tell stories.

Johnny Cash featured quite often. To me he was a legend. To the good folk of Nashville, however, he was a laughing stock. Bumbling through performances and forgetting lyrics. Ill health was not excuse enough for the embarrassment he had become.

Time is cruel, and it takes no prisoners.
It’s also the train that keeps rolling.
Something I must keep reminding myself of as I battle to balance the work/life scales.

If I dream of a perfect tomorrow
I can forget the troubles of today
I’ll count the hours, minutes and seconds
 Until I throw it in a bin marked yesterday

After a restless sleep a new day emerges
Though its promises are broken without delay
There’s no sunshine and no fluffy bunnies
 Guess I’ll throw my rose-tinted glasses away

So I trundle through dreaming of tomorrow
And fall into bed with a sigh of dismay
 For my future became a little shorter
Seems I’ve wasted another brand new today

Thank you for reading,


Anonymous said...

I loved the lyric 'When I hear that train comin', I hang my head and cry'. For me that seems synonymous with death. You have inspired me to write Fiona.

Nicely interpreted theme.

Fiona said...

The whole song has a wonderful melancholy about it.

Thank you for reading the blog, and taking the time to comment. It is much appreciated.