In a country that we call home
in a land that´s skin and bone
there´s a place that´s hardly known.

Mountains appearing with the sun

rivers of light they westward run
night is draining from the firmament.

Railway fettler broken down
on a branch line somewhere south
off the map and off the world.

There is no end to the world that I see
there is no end to the world that I see.

As we swing from star to star
we´re not going very far
the land is hard and gives no quarter.

The o´cannon garrison falls down
you cannot hear the church bell sound
the sun beats down and gives no sanctuary.

As sure as I stand on this place
the spirit comes
let lightning strike and leave no trace.