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Yessir, she's right on time too, just like clockwork by God. Here she comes, the Clusterfuck Express, barrelin' down the track on a one way trip straight to hell with all passengers aboard.
Your engineer is George 'Casey Jones' Bush, and he's firin' up them boilers with real people, not coal. Shovelin' em' into the furnace and openin' up the throttle all the way. Can't you hear the whistle blowin' mournfully in the distance? She's a comin' alrighty, to meet her appointed rounds.
The rackety ol' number 43, the ClusterFuck Express, the fireman is dead, the conductor bailed out, the brakes are gone, and the bridge is out up ahead at Iraqi pass. But the engineer is stayin' the course, hellbound for glory, passengers be damned. He's got a train to deliver, and nobody is gonna slow him down.
When he blows the whistle of the ClusterFuck Express, it almost sounds like people wailing, like a thousand mothers and babies screamin their last breaths. The rumble and the roar as the track itself comes apart and splinters under the black wheels, throwin' sparks into the night, and the smokestack spittin' the rocket's red glare.
Here she comes boys, the ClusterFuck Express with hundreds of red white and blue flags all wavin' and flappin' in the smoke and fire!
The rails ache and bend under the weight of the great black snake as it screams through the valley. The railroad ties are people, groaning and crying out, as they feel the heat of the ClusterFuck Express.
And where's she bound boys? Where could ol' number 43 be goin' in such a God awful hurry? There's nothin' up ahead but a mountainside, the rails stop at it's base, no tunnel, no turnstile, no sidetrack. Just a flat, granite wall, beyond which is hell itself.
The engineer, smiling and grimly determined to deliver his load to it's appointed destination.
This train don't take no liberals, this train. This train don't take no Arabs this train. This train's not bound for glory, the engineer has no desire for legacy, the throttle is wrenched in full open position, the dead man's switch has a brick on it. This train runs on blood and misery and greed, the finest burning fuel.
ALL ABOARD! Last chance to catch a ride, git yer ticket, take yer seat, and hang on people! The ClusterFuck Express is a runaway, and she's buildin' up a hell of a head of steam, and when she pulls in to that mountain straight ahead it'll be one glorious monstrous crash! How they'll talk about that awful day, for years to come, around quiet campfires and sad faces. They'll talk about the train, and it's engineer who went mad, and took all those people straight to hell with him.
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