Old Machines

Speed, speed, cutting into the trees
And the sharpened breath of a mountain stream
Colour these fields with our hands and eyes
Follow these hills with a slow climb
In the air the distant clangs and dreams
The city birds that haunt that haunt these old machines
Deep, deep, sinking into the trees
And the darkened veins of a mountain leaf
And in the air the distant clangs and dreams
The city birds that haunt these old machines
Moving out, out, out
Moving out, out, out
Moving out, out, out
Speed, speed, cutting into the trees
And the sharpened breath of a mountain stream
And by the shadows of a swollen sky
The city birds who gather on the wire
Through the darkness hidden in the trees
The city wolves which stalk these old machines
Moving out, out, out
Moving out, out, out
Moving out, out, out