Tales From a Cabin Boy 6/25/2019

Written to- "Idaho" by Gregory Alan Isakov.

Seeking the night for when I may stumble about the empty yet echo filled cargo cart of a lone train heading only into Midwestern territories. On this journey it seems very possible to be accompanied by the friendliest of bourbons, as well as only witnessing poorly lit grasslands and mountains. The temperature unable to go below or above 60 degrees outside, just cold enough to take comfort in a  favorite coat. The moon is the only light offered, and without a doubt mostly preferred. The sun does not exist while boarded on this train, it is even stated with bold letters on my boarding pass. The train will guide along as requested so long as I supply the melancholy to the conductor. How many destinations and sights would it take for me to experience before I  am able to find my stop? Honestly, I am not quite sure, nor do I really care the outcome. S**t, viewing the peace in front of myself and listening to other musicians heartstrings can be found way more than enough of a reason to pick up the Marlboro Reds, right? Ill let you know what I find out when I arrive.

Until next time,

Your Cabin Boy.