I've been worrying 'bout railroads
And the tracks they lay.
He's been worryin', paranoid;
Over time the ties decay.

Off the rails train would be going;
Might end up in a field of corn.
I'd hear his voice in head shouting:
"Dining car is shorn.

"Dining car, don't go!
Dining car, don't go!
Dining car, don't go, it's shor-or-orn!"
Bipolar lingo:
"Dining car, don't go!
Dining car, don't go, it's torn!

"Huddlin' in the kitchen car's finer."
"Trouble is, kitchen car might blow-ow-ow-ow.
Ruptured might be kitchen's gas lines. . . .er,
Maybe it's time we two go."

I'm thinkin'
Sky-high kitchen car might blow,
Sky-high kitchen she might blow-ow-ow-ow.
Sky-high kitchen she might blow.
Bus is how we're gonna go,
Pumpin' thorazine down throat.