Tracks Poem by Martin O'Neill

She's smoking down the Mainline
She's burning up the track
She's Momma's little rebel
And she's never coming back

She doesn't need no luggage
All she needs is cash
To buy her Mainline ticket
And escape from all this trash

She counts out all her money
She smokes a little weed
But the Mainline main attraction
Is the hit she really needs

The ticket seller's smiling
He counts the cash again
Momma's rebel's dangling
From a twisted chemist's chain

And now the Mainline's humming
The tracks are burning bright
Her eyes roll in their sockets
As God turns out the light

She's riding on a Dragon
With pennies on her eyes
They found her in the bathroom
By following the flies.