He sat down right in front of me, and I said It looks like you got a story to tell He offered up a friendly smile Said I'm just a ghost rider on this train So I pressed him just a little bit harder There's got to be more to it than that He said, son I was there in '45 When my mother was burned And my sister was shot in the back (Refrão) It had started with a rumor Then it happened fast Were shuffled into box cars And rolled on down the track There was nothing we could do Just roll across the plains We were all just ghost riders Ghost riders on a train As he turned to watch the fields roll by I saw a single tear reflect off the glass And for a while he disappeared To a distant rainy night Then he came right back I didn't know what to say or do But he pressed on, there's more to it than that I can still feel the cuts from the barbed-wire fence Taste the taste of fear And smell the smell of the rats (Refrão) When I stood with him outside the gates Some three hundred-fifty miles southeast of Berlin A wicked wind blew from the west And a chill rippled up under my skin He closed his eyes and asked dear God What the hell was the sense of all of this Was it all part of your grand design Or just a speck in time Something that you missed (Refrão+) We were all just ghost riders Ghost riders on a train