Union Station (800 N. Alameda St.)
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The travertine speaks of a world gone by Drape cut, cummerbund, wide patterned neck tie With mindless magazines I kill time In the late, great waiting room in elegant decline A delicate man with a bird-like face Stutter steps next to me puts down a briefcase He opines that the palm tree chose to grow Toward the heavens when there was no further West it could go In the hall, in the hall In the hall of the lost In the hall, in the hall In the hall of the lost The line from faded to forgot Is crossed In the hall, in the hall, in the hall In the hall, in the hall of the lost If Lewis and Clark made an art of the quest God and Nature and Indians to the West Is there defeat in a train from LA When Manifest Destiny brought us all this way? In the hall, in the hall In the hall of the lost In the hall, in the hall In the hall of the lost In the hall, in the hall, in the hall In the hall, in the hall, in the hall In the hall, in the hall, in the hall In the hall, in the hall In the hall of the lost When the pilasters split to admit the sea The hands of the clock will be covered in verdigris Swim to the train and I'll find my seat And hazard a smile at anyone who looks at me When the Alkali flats with their cracks pass by Think of the color wheel, think of the Western sky Distant city with a distant glow The hall of the lost has let me go In the hall, in the hall In the hall of the lost In the hall, in the hall In the hall of the lost The line from faded to forgot Is crossed In the hall of the lost In the hall, in the hall, in the hall In the hall, in the hall In the hall of the lost
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Credits
- Writers
- Gabriel Kahane