Runaway On The Cajon Pass

Thywolflord

Gritty rock voice

Thywolflord

barbershop quartet, a cappella, vocal harmony

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V5.5

(Verse 1)

Before the dawn on February first of ninety-six,
The San Bernardino mountains played their deadly winter tricks.
Down from Barstow rolled the symbol H BALT one thirty one,
Four engines running down to meet the sun.
Lester Foster held the throttle, a veteran at the wheel,
With Gilbert Ortiz  beside him, checking on the steel.
Young Kevin Williams watched the gauges, a brakeman in his prime,
Unknowing that the ticking clock was running out of time.

(Chorus)

Oh, scream for the valley, and weep for the brass,
There’s a ghost train a-rollin’ down the cajón Pass.
When the air lines are choked and the warnings don't light,
You can pray to the heavens but you're losing the fight.

(Verse 2)

They reached the crest at Summit, where the three-percent begins,
Lester reached to pull the air to keep the giant in.
But deep within the train line, hidden well past car number nine,
A plastic wrapper choked the breath right out of the line.
The two-way telemetry was dark, disabled, and dead,
No backup signal fired from the cab to the rear-end red.
The emergency valves were empty, the brake shoes couldn't grip,
As forty-nine cars of heavy freight began a fatal trip.

(Chorus)

(Verse 3)

"We're plugging it!" they shouted, as they dumped the final air,
But only five cars felt the pads, leaving forty screaming bare.
At Milepost 60, the wheel trucks were shooting blinding sparks,
Tearing through the freezing mist and lighting up the dark.
Biutyl Acrylate  and Methyl Ethyl Ketone in the back,
Thousands of pounds of poison rolling wildly down the track.
At ninety miles an hour, the mountain curves come fast,
Gilbert grabbed his radio, knowing it was his last.

(Bridge)

"Emergency! Emergency! We cannot hold the train!"
A final cry of duty swallowed by the mountain pain.
Down at the Highway One Thirty Eight cross where the tracks begin to bend,
Gilbert and young Kevin jumped to face a bitter end.
The metal screamed like thunder as she left the iron rail,
Forty-five cars piled thirty high, a hellish, burning trail.
A toxic cloud of chemical fire rose into the gray,
Shutting down Interstate 15 for a night and a day.

(Verse 4)

Lester dragged his broken bones out from the burning night,
But Gilbert and young Kevin had already taken flight.
Two lanterns gone forever, two families left to weep,
While the cold rocks of the pass their solemn vigil keep.
The N T S B would write the book on how the fail occurred,
But paperwork can't bring back the voices that the canyon heard.

(Outro)

Now there's a stone marker standing right beside the track,
For the crew who went down the mountain and never made it back.
So listen to the whistle when the midnight freights go by,
And remember Ortiz and Williams underneath the California sky.
Down in the cajón Pass.
God rest the Santa Fe.

3028/7500

(Verse 1) Before the dawn on February first of ninety-six, The San Bernardino mountains played their deadly winter tricks. Down from Barstow rolled the symbol H BALT one thirty one, Four engines running down to meet the sun. Lester Foster held the throttle, a veteran at the wheel, With Gilbert Ortiz beside him, checking on the steel. Young Kevin Williams watched the gauges, a brakeman in his prime, Unknowing that the ticking clock was running out of time. (Chorus) Oh, scream for the valley, and weep for the brass, There’s a ghost train a-rollin’ down the cajón Pass. When the air lines are choked and the warnings don't light, You can pray to the heavens but you're losing the fight. (Verse 2) They reached the crest at Summit, where the three-percent begins, Lester reached to pull the air to keep the giant in. But deep within the train line, hidden well past car number nine, A plastic wrapper choked the breath right out of the line. The two-way telemetry was dark, disabled, and dead, No backup signal fired from the cab to the rear-end red. The emergency valves were empty, the brake shoes couldn't grip, As forty-nine cars of heavy freight began a fatal trip. (Chorus) Oh, scream for the valley, and weep for the brass, There’s a ghost train a-rollin’ down the cajón Pass. When the air lines are choked and the warnings don't light, You can pray to the heavens but you're losing the fight. (Verse 3) "We're plugging it!" they shouted, as they dumped the final air, But only five cars felt the pads, leaving forty screaming bare. At Milepost 60, the wheel trucks were shooting blinding sparks, Tearing through the freezing mist and lighting up the dark. Biutyl Acrylate and Methyl Ethyl Ketone in the back, Thousands of pounds of poison rolling wildly down the track. At ninety miles an hour, the mountain curves come fast, Gilbert grabbed his radio, knowing it was his last. (Bridge) "Emergency! Emergency! We cannot hold the train!" A final cry of duty swallowed by the mountain pain. Down at the Highway One Thirty Eight cross where the tracks begin to bend, Gilbert and young Kevin jumped to face a bitter end. The metal screamed like thunder as she left the iron rail, Forty-five cars piled thirty high, a hellish, burning trail. A toxic cloud of chemical fire rose into the gray, Shutting down Interstate 15 for a night and a day. (Verse 4) Lester dragged his broken bones out from the burning night, But Gilbert and young Kevin had already taken flight. Two lanterns gone forever, two families left to weep, While the cold rocks of the pass their solemn vigil keep. The N T S B would write the book on how the fail occurred, But paperwork can't bring back the voices that the canyon heard. (Outro) Now there's a stone marker standing right beside the track, For the crew who went down the mountain and never made it back. So listen to the whistle when the midnight freights go by, And remember Ortiz and Williams underneath the California sky. Down in the cajón Pass. God rest the Santa Fe.

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