Baton the hatches these roving souls These cracks in my face my grey hair bold these old sea stained eyes, these pipe soaked teeth all a portrait of a man whose name is grief
I've heard the beauty of a seagulls screech with the promise of land just out of reach cast far away by this wandering shoal and recked by the fragrance of times of old
(Chorus) We will sing, of these roving hearts as we sail captured by these stars We will dance in these boxcars of old just two roving souls waiting for life to unfold
I've seen the white caps from which you have come but the promise of freedom is not found In them I know the secrets of wondering free just a boxcar and a nap-sack is all that I need.
It can be dangerous that's for sure running from bulls in these Chicago yards but beauty unmatched is not out of reach Just two rails below me and engine grease
Well my old friend we can daydream all we want but when the whistle its sounds it commanding haunt we shall return from our wistful old tail cause we're just two average Joes in this factory jail Just two average Joes in this factory hell