Dead Grammas On A Train

It crashed and burned about 1912
A real big fucker about a mile long
Rolled over houses underneath the turn
It killed the gramma of my perfect one
I know it is because of this that she was never born

I saw a picture 1939
A little girl with a face like mine
The train behind her hand an open door
She was the mother of my perfect one
And it is because of this that she was never born

So many tombstones by the railroad line
Say "This lady left not a soul behind"
Wait at the station, I don't wait for long
Could've been a death train about 12 miles long
Stacked full of grammas for my perfect one
I don't know what happened but she was never born