Thought I'd check into The Chelsea
That's the place for a troubadour like me
With a ragdoll and her needles
To inspire my masterpiece
But by the time I made The Big Apple
I couldn't find a room to save my life
I was just a pilgrim weary from travel
There was no new song to write
No there was no new song to write

I went down to meet the devil of The Delta
But I could not even give my soul away

So I prayed up to sweet Jesus
'Send me something for my song'
I sang, 'Glory! Hallelujah!'
But I knew I'd gone all wrong

I don't need no lonesome whistle
I've seen my future in a dream
On the Amtrak Empire Builder
I'll let the old world turn to steam
I'll let the old world turn to steamv