Union Station (800 N. Alameda St.)

The travertine speaks of a world gone by
Drape cut, cummerbund, wide patterned neck tie
With mindless magazines I kill time
In the late, great waiting room, elegant decline

A delicate man with a bird-like face
Stutter steps next to me sets down a briefcase
Opines that the palm tree chose to grow
Toward the heavens when there was no further West it could go

In the hall, in the hall
In the hall of the lost
In the hall, in the hall
In the hall of the lost
The line from faded to forgot
Is crossed
In the hall, in the hall, in the hall
In the hall, in the hall of the lost

If Lewis and Clark made an art of the quest
God and Nature and Indians to the West
Is there defeat in a train from LA
When Manifest Destiny brought us all this way?

In the hall, in the hall
In the hall of the lost
In the hall, in the hall
In the hall of the lost

In the hall, in the hall, in the hall
In the hall, in the hall, in the hall
In the hall, in the hall, in the hall
In the hall, in the hall
In the hall of the lost

When the pilasters split to admit the sea
The hands of the clock will be covered in verdigris
I’ll swim to the train and find my seat
And hazard a smile at anyone who looks at me

When the Alkali flats with their cracks pass by
Think of the color wheel, think of the Western sky
Distant city with a distant glow
The hall of the lost has let me go

In the hall, in the hall
In the hall of the lost
In the hall, in the hall
In the hall of the lost
The line from faded to forgot
Is crossed
In the hall of the lost

In the hall, in the hall, in the hall
In the hall, in the hall
In the hall of the lost