I want to paint a train
I want to paint the smell of the Highland Falcon on a mid-summers day as it goes on its final journey around Great Britain.
I want to paint the memory of the final voyage of the Highland Falcon flying through the fearless sky as quiet as a mouse scuttling to cheese.
I want to paint the texture of claret red carpet along the royal carriage.
I want to paint the sound of wheels chugging across the track as slowly as a turtle out of water.
I want to paint the memory of the Highland Falcon’s final journey as it trots around Great Britain.

I want to paint the sound of the Locomotive off of the Highland Falcon puffing out clouds of smoke on its final journey around Great Britain, as swiftly as a leopard sprinting through the desert.
I want to paint the taste of the Highland Falcon disappearing into the blackness of a tunnel.
I want to paint the distance between a locomotive puffing out smoke and a hyper-speed train as wobbleless as a clueless cheetah sprinting across open plains.
I want to paint memory of the Highland Falcon whizzing past me like a lion roaring.
I want to paint the impossibility of the Highland Falcon diving into the midnight zone without shriveling up.