Started up in Oakland, Coliseum platform low,
Few folks in the carriage, watchin’ shadows come and go.
Rolled past Fruitvale’s colors, murals bright against the gray,
Markets hummin’ lively in the early-morning way.
But east beyond the rooftops, the Diablo Range arose,
Mount Diablo standin’ tall, purple in the glow.
Oh the East Bay Corridor to San Jose,
Mountains guard the eastern sky all along the way.
Diablo and Hamilton, watchin’ hour by hour,
Coast Live Oaks and eucalyptus in their quiet power.
No cows out in the open, no sheep along the track,
No pigs or cluckin’ chickens — just the wild green coming back.
They’re penned up in the ranches, or gone from fields we knew,
While the rails keep whisperin’ stories old and true.
San Leandro whispers, quiet streets and auto rows,
Bay Fair’s junction glowin’ where the freeways meet and flow.
Hayward rises steady, hills behind the station light,
South Hayward callin’ softly in the fadin’ afternoon light.
Union City edges closer, salt flats shinin’ far and wide,
Fremont’s mission echoes, cultures blendin’ side by side.
Through the windows ever eastward, the range stays in our sight,
Mount Hamilton risin’ higher in the golden slantin’ light.
Warm Springs/South Fremont, new homes risin’ tall and clean,
Past the tech parks gleamin’, where the orchards used to dream.
Coast Live Oaks stand ancient, twisted branches wide and strong,
Eucalyptus leaves a-rustle, bay laurel breathin’ all day long.
Redwoods cluster in the draws, silver lupine paints the slope,
Yarrow white and fuchsia fire, Toyon berries full of hope.
I scanned for country kin out there, a herd or flock to see,
But the wild plants hold the beauty, wild and wild and free.
Yet the people tell their stories at each stop along the line,
Taquerias in Fruitvale, pho shops openin’ on time.
From Coliseum’s roar to Berryessa’s quiet end,
Diverse hearts ridin’ together, family, stranger, friend.
The mountains keep their vigil, green and rugged, ever near,
Holdin’ secrets of the valley through the changin’ of the year.
Finally Berryessa/North San Jose, the journey’s southern close,
Train slows into stillness where the new world gently grows.
Still the Diablo shadows stretch across the evening sky,
Oaks and lupine, yarrow, fuchsia — nature never says goodbye.
No livestock grazin’ freely, no barnyard sounds to hear,
Just the hum of wheels on track and mountains drawin’ near.
Habits shift like seasons, from the farm to code and screen,
But the ride remembers everything — the peaks, the green, the dream.
Final Chorus (softer, echoing like fading announcements)
Oh the East Bay Corridor to San Jose,
Fruitvale, Coliseum, San Leandro on display.
Bay Fair, Hayward, South Hayward, Union City gleam,
Fremont, Warm Springs/South Fremont — chasin’ that old dream.
Diablo Range all along the way, mountains strong and true,
Coast Live Oak and silver lupine, Toyon red in view.
No poultry in the open, no cattle in the sun,
Just the train and its lonesome song when the journey’s done.
They’re all closed in the farms now… or maybe just moved on,
But these mountains keep their watch till the next ride comes along.
