The Engine Driver - The Decemberists

I’m an engine driver

On a long run, on a long run

Would I work beside her

She’s a long one, such a long one

And if you don’t love me, let me go And if you don’t love me, let me go

I’m a county lineman

On the high line, on the high line

So will be my grandson

There are power lines in our bloodlines

And if you don’t love me, let me go And if you don’t love me, let me go And I am a writer

A writer of fictions

I am the heart that you call home

I’ve written pages upon pages

Trying to rid you from my bones

My bones, my bones

I’m a moneylender

I have fortunes upon fortunes

Take my hand for tender

I am tortured, ever tortured

And if you don’t love me, let me go And if you don’t love me, let me go And I am a writer

Writer of fictions

I am the heart that you call home

I’ve written pages upon pages

Trying to rid you from my bones

I am a writer

I am all that you have known

And I’ve written pages upon pages

Trying to rid you from my bones

My bones, my bones

(And if you don’t love me, let me go)

And if you don’t love me, let me go

(And if you don’t love me, let me go)

And if you don’t love me, let me go