|
Steel in the skies and the road, |
|
somehow travelling far. |
|
Chasing a dream of the west |
|
made with iron and stone. |
|
These are old hills that stand in the way |
|
breaking the line. |
|
It came out of the storm, |
|
out of the sea |
|
to the permanent way |
|
Using just available light, |
|
he could still see far. |
|
Deep in the heart of the land |
|
breaking through the old stone. |
|
Chasing the trail of the water |
|
down through underground streams. |
|
Working the way through the valleys and fields, |
|
grass grown hills and stone. |
|
Parting the land |
|
with the mark of man, |
|
the permanent way, |
|
Using just available light, |
|
he could still see far skies, |
|
deep time. |
|
These are old places stood in the way. |
|
Low cloud comes to ground. |
|
The grey and the green and the bold and the brave |
|
on the permanent way. |
|
Using just available light, |
|
he could still see far. |
|
Using just available light, |
|
he could still see far. |
|
Twelve stones from the water |
|
continents apart |
|
the clouds are gathering again, |
|
filling up the sky, |
|
it rains on England. |
|
Roofless engine houses |
|
distant hills like bookends |
|
frame electrical storms |
|
moving out to sea |
|
away from England. |
|
Those days have gone, those days... |
|
Those days have gone, |
|
their names are lost |
|
the stories left untold. |
|
Under an ordinary star |
|
we are just moments of time, |
|
it is the end of the line |
|
this place is worked out. |
|
Those days have gone. |
|
their names are lost |
|
the stories left untold. |
|
A faultline opens in the ground |
|
waves make their way to the shore, |
|
this is the end of the line, |
|
time worn and broken. |
|
These things have faded with the light |
|
few know the stories now, |
|
this is the end of the line, |
|
time worn and broken. |
|
Under steel grey skies |
|
he is drawn across the river. |
|
No bands played, |
|
there was no sound. |
|
A sunray met the dark |
|
of the fuller's earth. |
|
It is gone now. |
|
It is over. |
|
All good things and everything... |
|
this used to be a railway town |
|
now we're travelling without knowing, |
|
without meaning. |
|
Light bleeds from the world, |
|
Starcross, the Underfall Yard, |
|
the iron and the stone is broken, |
|
the dream of the Western mind, |
|
searching for reason |
|
is gone now. |
|
These are old places stood in the way, |
|
grass grown hills and stone. |
|
Parting the land |
|
with the mark of man, |
|
the permanent way, |
|
Using just available light, |
|
he could still see far. |