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Founding fathers dream of rotting rafters Autumn, the abyss and then the hereafter Hoisten up my sleeves friend, inmate get my collar The voice above a glade cracks like a hundred thunder Leykin, what d'you call it when a dead-end siding, bifurcates at points like forked lightning? Beyond the river a hamlet, hear me no Shapiro there the combine harvests all the former heroes Distant sleeperless tracks where rust is 'pon the iron Sombre sub-station, a kettle made of copper Fore the train pulls out, I pray you - give me water From Letras Mania