Mob Style

Midwestern winter froze my ears and broke my back
But I made the station, started limping towards the track
When we finally started moving I was sure that I was finally home
The world was shining in a coat of diamond ice
The weather man beside me, dishing out advice
Said: The wind chill here will kill you!
I pretended I was all alone
The sun was frozen, stuck in the sky
Gave no heat, was God's own lie
Outside chicago, not a second to react
The engineer he told the brakemen
God there's someone on the track
Can't turn back, it's too late!
Dead still the weather man too time to speculate
The track is frozen it can't take the engine's weight
Just one look outside my window
Saw the truth that he was wrong, dead wrong
No time to argue, too late to beg
A pair of frozen stone dead legs
A speeding locomotive doesn't worry, doesn't feel
Carries life inside her belly, offers death beneath her wheels
Of stone cold steel