Lyrics

The Moon is cracked
The stars are all black
And used-tissue clouds
Are dangled overhead
Just like marionettes

A ripple of wind
Scatters the grasses
Amassed at the edge
Of the tarmac

An ancient factory
Wheezes and hacks
A mixture of black
And poisonous gasses
Pours from its crumbling smokestacks

Industrial trains
Dangerously aged
Are loaded almost
To the point of collapse
As they haul their cargo
Down rusted tracks
Scratched into the jagged terrain

There's something strangely tranquil
In the grandeur of this wasteland
That baffles all attempts
At explanation

A lonely stranger contemplates
The passing generations
Whose toil and labor
Sanctified a nation