I missed the train last night
It was a dark empty lonely kind of quiet
No whistle screaming, no metal screeching
No clickety clack of the tracks, coming back

I missed the plane last night
People soaring overhead, and the friends I never met
Adventures they were seeking, while I lie here sleeping
Above the clouds, beyond the rain, never to be seen again

I missed grandpa’s black ‘54 Ford last night
Driving through the desert, windows rolled down, warm air breathing
Neon lights electrifying the Las Vegas Strip
One arm bandits clanking, and people praying to Lady Luck