In the sapling years of the post war world In an English market town I do believe we travelled in schoolboy blue The cap upon the crown Books on knee Our faces pressed against the dusty railway carriage panes As all our lives went rolling on the clicking wheels of trains The school years passed like eternity And at last were left behind And it seemed the city was calling me To see what I might find Almost grown, I stood before horizons made of dreams I think I stole a kiss or two while rolling on the clicking wheels of trains Trains All our lives were a whistle stop affair No ties or chains Throwing words like fireworks in the air Not much remains A photograph in your memory Through the coloured lens of time All our lives were just a smudge of smoke against the sky The silver rails spread far and wide Through the nineteenth century Some straight and true, some serpentine From the cities to the sea And out of sight Of those who rode in style there worked the military mind On through the night to plot and chart the twisting paths of trains On the day they buried Jean Juarez World War One broke free Like an angry river overflowing Its banks impatiently While mile on mile The soldiers filled the railway stations arteries and veins I see them now go laughing on the clicking wheels of trains Trains Rolling off to the front Across the narrow Russian gauge Weeks turn into months And the enthusiasm wanes Sacrifices in seas of mud, and still you don't know why All their lives are just a puff of smoke against the sky Then came surrender, then came the peace Then revolution out of the east Then came the crash, then came the tears Then came the thirties, the nightmare years Then came the same thing over again Mad as the moon That watches over the plain Oh, driven insane But oh what kind of trains are these That I never saw before Snatching up the refugees From the ghettoes of the war To stand confused With all their worldly goods, beneath the watching guard's disdain As young and old go rolling on the clicking wheels of trains And the driver only does this job With vodka in his coat And he turns around and he makes a sign With his hand across his throat For days on end Through sun and snow, the destination still remains the same For those who ride with death above the clicking wheels of trains Trains What became of the innocence They had in childhood games Painted red or blue When I was young they all had names Who'll remember the ones who only rode in them to die All their lives are just a smudge of smoke against the sky Now forty years have come and gone And I'm far away from there And I ride the Amtrak from NewYork City To Philadelphia And there's a man to bring you food and drink And sometimes passengers exchange A smile or two rolling on the humming wheels But I can't tell you if it's them Or if it's only me But I believe when they look outside They don't see what I see Over there Beyond the trees it seems that I can just make out the stained Fields of Poland calling out to all the passing trains Trains I suppose that there's nothing In this life remains the same Everything is governed By the losses and the gains Still sometimes I get caught up in the past I can't say why All our lives are just a smudge of smoke Or just a breath of wind against the sky