Reading On Trains

**[Verse 1]** Steinbeck open on my knee, pages twitch as we cross the Lea. Back-to-backs blur out in grey, another town we won’t delay. Dog-eared wisdom, thumb-stained quotes, men with dust in second coats. He wrote of hunger like he knew, and here I am, seat forty-two. **[Pre-Chorus]** Coffee cold, my name unsaid, She texts, I type, then stop instead. Outside, a cow stares like a priest — quiet, stubborn, somehow at peace. **[Chorus]** I read to stay awake, not wise, to feel the grit behind their eyes. A thousand miles, a thousand names, but I just underline the blame. Chapter breaks and windowpanes, pages turn like northern rains. The book don’t judge, the train don’t slow — both just carry what they know. **[Verse 2]** Lads two seats down talk footie deals, One’s half-cut, one’s half-ideal. The guard don’t check — he nods me through, Like he’s read this chapter too. A vicar coughs, a baby cries, a woman eats her chips in sighs. And me? I underline a line, about how rage can taste like wine. **[Pre-Chorus]** I mark a page I’ll never quote, then fold the corner like a note. Think of him — the one who said, “People break the ones they’ve fed.” **[Chorus]** I read to stay awake, not wise, to feel the grit behind their eyes. A thousand miles, a thousand names, but I just underline the blame. Chapter breaks and windowpanes, pages turn like northern rains. The book don’t judge, the train don’t slow — both just carry what they know. **[Bridge]** There’s power in a paperback, in looking back without retreat. The train don’t stop for small towns now — but neither did we. **[Final Chorus]** I read to stay awake, not wise, to feel the grit behind their eyes. A thousand miles, a thousand names, I underline, but feel the same. Chapter breaks and windowpanes, pages blur like coastal lanes. The book don’t judge, the train don’t slow — and that’s enough for me to go.