Well the Luxembourg ladies have all gone to sleep and the sun it commences to rising. And the girls on the train have appointments to keep and the young men are smoking and sighing.
And the train leaves the station you're sleeping between cars nothing to say
And the train leaves the station your head on your rucksack racing away
And the rooftops in town look like fall-colored leaves and the road leading down there is winding. The sea at your feet makes the beer go down smooth and the sand in your shoes is reminding
You that you're leaving just here for awhile fading away.
And the train leaves the station you're not coming back never to this place again.