Feels Like 1945

It was a northbound freight
On the Cotton Belt line
Haulin’ rice and cotton
Outta South Caroline
And that ‘ol lonesome whistle
Called out to me
So I wandered down the road
Just to have myself a see.

The smoke and the cinders
The steam and the thunder
Rose to the skies
And sparked a need in me to wander
So I jumped a car
When it slowed for a bend
And rode that train
All the way to the end.

Hell, buddy, that was a life time ago
But I remember like it was yesterday.
They’re all diesel now I guess
But if I were young again, I’d say
I’d do it all over again, more or less.
I’d hop one more train
And I’d ride it one last time
Just to rock away the years and the pain.

The Cotton Belt line is a long time gone
But those ‘ol rails are always there.
That steel ribbon is my blood and breath
And there ain’t nothin’ like cinder smoke in the air.
In my heart I’m riding that train again
And it still feels like 1945.
Whenever I hear that lonesome whistle blow
I feel like I’m a young man, and I’m alive.