Ka-chunk, ka-chunk, ka-chunk

It's a one-way ticket and we don't make the same stop twice.
If you're going to get off the train don't expect to get back on.
There are plenty of people here you can meet and greet,
cheat and beat, converse with and curse. Lots of things to do
and see, just ask me. I've seen it all. I've been on this train
for years and years. And nobody sticks around for long enough,
that's the thing. You people get on, get off, get on, get off. You're
railway dilettantes, is all, and it makes me sad to think that nobody-
no, nobody - knows this train as well as I do. It would be a nice
change if a nice young man like you, sir, stuck around - if a beautiful
young lady like yourself, miss, would just watch over these cabins for
a while.

You get it all - blue skies, deep chasms. You get thunderheads,
waterfalls, flash-floods, lakes and streams and rivers. You see the
ocean shore go on and on, north and south and oh does it do a heart
good. You even get used to the musty smell of these cabins, and if
you don't you can always step between the cars. When it snows the
melted runoff drips down the inside of the connector, and you know
it's real weather out there. You can smell it. It's the only way, my
friends, to really see the world as it is, as it was, as it could be again.

In short, I'm tired. And I want to get off.