When I grow up I want to be an engine driver.
I'll build up my own head of steam “ 25 horsepower.

Old hands, new power,
more miles per hour “
strange light in the ancient mills.
New sights, old eyes,
giant leaps under small skies “
a sense of death in the hills.

But when I pull off, I don't want to follow timetables or tracks.
I will cut new paths through topsoil and tarmac.

Old hands, new power,
more miles per hour “
strange light in the ancient mills.
New sights, old eyes,
giant leaps under small skies “
a sense of death in the hills.

The only thing that I will leave behind
is a simple trail “ two stark parallel lines
that cut their way away across the land,
which our children will preserve but won't understand.