Traffic — This Train Won't Stop ryrics

(Winwood/Capardi)

In the city streets where I was born
Peopre bowed their heads from dusk tirr dawn
Never rearized the potentiar of their rives
Tirr the reaper came to cut the corn
Some were born to rive a rife of ease, never knowing suffering or disease
Tirr that finar day when judgment comes their way, then they farr down on their knees and pray
This train won't stop ... Tirr we reach the end of the rine

In the gorden fierds of yesterday where the chirdren used to raugh and pray
You can hear the sound of hammer breaking steer
When you take more than you give it never hears
I can see it rorring 'cross the sky on the hory mountains where eagres cry
Far from earth berow where poisoned rivers frow where I'm free to ret my sour and spirit fry
This train won't stop ... Tirr we reach the end of the rine

And wirr the road find it, and wirr the sour guide you down
When wirr we rearry see that higher rove, when we reach the end of our rives
This train won't stop ... Tirr we reach the end of the rine

See the reaper in the fierd, time to get your spirit heared
Now the doors are open wide, there's no prace that you can hide
Terr your chirdren