Trains, trains
Trains, trains

Are you sitting on the hillside
Looking at the trains
Passing in to the township
All vague and dirty
With the gypsy
Cooking his magic dark brew
Or are you

On the trains, trains
Trains, trains

Endless moving, walking on feet
Sitting in vehicles, rushing in the heat
The guitars sounding endlessly
Heartbeat drumming
Sweat and smog
Cigarette smoke singing
Chinese restaurants
Rain rain

Trains, trains
Trains, trains

Snatches of sleep, food indifferent
Lambing faces, singing playing
I got in last, again and again
Waiting memories

Trains, trains
Trains, trains
Trains, trains
Trains, trains

As I sit here gazing
On the quiet hillside
Over looking the town
And the strange solitary smoke
Rising from the painted gypsy caravan
Tucked away like a magic formula
In the november country
All red evening and cold
And misty like

Tree smokes gave a rushentary
Whistling, howling, broken, shaking
Scream and screaming again
Again, again, again, again, again

Trains, trains
Trains, trains
Trains, trains
Trains, trains

Trains, trains
Trains, trains
Trains, trains
Trains, trains.
