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.