Paul Simon. Trailways Bus. Zeneszám

A passenger traveling quietly conceals himself
With a magazine and a sleepless pillow
Over the crest of the mountain the moon begins it's climb
And he wakes to find, he's in rolling farmland

The farmer sleeps against his wife
He wonders what their life must be
A trailways bus is heading south
Into Washington, D.C

A mother and child, the baby maybe two months old
Prepare themselves for sleep and feeding
The shadow of the capitol dome slides across his face
And his heart is racing with the urge to freedom

The father motionless as stone
A shepherd resting with his flock
The trailways bus is turning west
Dallas via little rock

O my darling, darling Sal
The desert moon is my witness
I've no money to come east
But I know you'll soon be here

We pull into downtown Dallas by the side of the grassy knoll
Where the leader fell and a town was broken
Away from the feel and flow of life for so many years
He hears music playing and Spanish spoken

The border patrol outside of Tucson boarded the bus
Any aliens here? You better check with us
How about you son? You look like you got Spanish blood
Do you 'habla ingles,' am I understood?

Yes, I am an alien, from Mars
I come to earth from outer space
And if I traveled my whole life
You guys would still be on my case
You guys would still be on my case

But he can't leave his fears behind
He recalls each fatal thrust
The screams carried by the wind
Phantom figures in the dust
Phantom figures in the dust
Phantom figures in the dust