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.