Six by nine in the glass of time,
Bags packed on the floor.
The two sons cracked the morning fog,
When they stepped out through the door.
The father stood with firm resolve,
The axe fell from his hand.
And the two sons looked beyond the broken edges of the land.
The mother's eyes softened as she held her husband's hand...gently.
And I know she'll miss me.
There's a strength within me.
So I'll go...I'll go to Bisbee.
The little river flowing through the town that suits their name.
The scent of greasewood coats the air, lumber shows the grain.
Brown hair flowing through their fingers,
Rain pounds on the door.
The two sons and their two wives,
Let the big tears fall.
The urge they followed once before still calls... fiercely.
And I know she'll miss me.
There's a strength within me.
There's the road... there's still that road to Bisbee.
Railroad spike, and a miners' strike at the bottom of the hill.
Wheeler's men of a thousand-ten, set to do their will.
Box cars that are made for cattle, fill them up with men.
The value of a worker's life measured on their skin.
The two sons finally walk the gravel line... proudly.
And I know she'll miss me.
There's a strength within me.
I'm on that train...on that train from Bisbee.
And I know she'll miss me.
There's a strength within me.
When I look back, I see my face in Bisbee.