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When I grow up I want to be An engine driver. I'll build up my own head of steam- Twenty-fice horsepower. But when I pull off, I don't want to Follow time tables 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 for 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 Bot won't understand. From Letras Mania