(Verse 1) It was May fourteenth in Stanley Yard, the morning air was gray An engineer was moving freight to clear the tracks that day CSX eighty-eight eighty-eight, a powerhouse of steel Was pulling forty-seven cars with heavy, grinding wheels The driver saw a switch ahead he needed to adjust He slowed the train to walking speed, but placed too much trust In a system that was compromised by rain and slicked-down grease He stood upon the running board and let go of the beast He meant to hit the dynamic brake to hold the heavy load But shoved the throttle up to notch eight as it hit the road (Chorus) Eighty-eight eighty-eight, pulling forty-seven cars Rolling through the crossroads underneath the hidden stars Two thousand tons of rolling steel, the "Crazy Eights" are loose A toxic load of molten phenol, and there is no caboose (Verse 2) The independent brake was on, but couldn't stop the spin The wheels were throwing liquid fire, the metal wearing thin Because the brake shoes dragged along, the safety bell stayed dead The train kept picking up its pace on open tracks ahead They tried to use derailers, but the weight just crushed the steel They shot the fuel line with a gun, but couldn't break the wheel It barreled through the crossings, sixty miles of pure alarm Until two men in Kenton moved to keep the state from harm (Chorus) Eighty-eight eighty-eight, pulling forty-seven cars Rolling through the crossroads underneath the hidden stars Two thousand tons of rolling steel, the "Crazy Eights" are loose A toxic load of molten phenol, and there is no caboose (Bridge) Jon Hosfeld took the highway, chasing down the iron rail While Jesse Nolton and Terry Forson vowed they wouldn't fail They waited on a siding with engine eighty-three ninety-two An SD40-2 that knew exactly what to do They switched onto the main line as the runaway screamed past They threw their engine in reverse and caught the monster fast They slammed into the rear car, the coupling pin fell down Forson worked the throttle hard to save the next small town (Verse 3) Eighty-three ninety-two was pulling back with all its might The brake shoes screamed in agony, the metal glowing bright The speed dropped down to eleven miles as it hit Route Thirty-One Jon Hosfeld ran along the ties to finish what was begun He gripped the freezing handrail, climbed up the cabin stair He closed the roaring throttle and he slammed the lines with air The sixty-mile chase was done, the danger cleared away By three brave men and eighty-three ninety-two that day (Outro) They scraped the melted metal off and gave her a new name But railfans still remember eighty-eight eighty-eight’s old fame The day the throttle stuck at eight, the day the systems failed The story of the runaway that never quite derailed
