The clicking cars are all that break the peace,
As wanderers dream I paint a scene,
Of raven peaks and steep ravines,
Surrounds a solemn opaque dream .

Dark above the carriage ticks,
I move along the metal grain,
Fixed in snow that falls and sticks,
Oh how I’d like to break the chain.

If the sky should rip and sun appear,
The ice would rip the soil through layers,
Would anyone fail to see this come
Or solely mind their own affairs?

The river carves the shapes and letters,
Did one look upon these stills?
To find the letters, the words, the means
To describe the life on a standing hill.

I drift alone through sterile hills
And here my frozen breath sustains,
I alone, passing through these hills,
Yet two stand still, two remain.
Two ancient friends stand alone,
Within the snow their pins combine
These years alone have brought them close
These grey and brown and ageless pines.

Hello my friend, my old companion,
I may come back but not by the same way,
Like snow, no flake shall ever fall twice,
There is one way to leave, to go.

Lead on my friend, m y old companion.

Goodbye my friend, my old companion.

And if the snow fell off the trees,
The two might bathe within the rays,
A feeling cherished, but long forgot:
One they’ll remember for all their days.
Guide us now w e lose our course
With no one to lead or drive us on,
And no one w ill ever come to mourn,
Our frozen solitary days are gone.

Last time my friend, my old companion,
I may return, but not by the same way.
Like snow, no flake shall ever fall twice,
There is one way to leave.

Breathe a sigh of relief in the absence of the nearest star,
See how others peacefully sleep and be thankful for where you are.

Night falls faster here and soon the houses disappear,
The light reflects back the eyes of birds
Looking like distant stars;
Watching safely over railway cars.
As we pass through ice to snow,
We know to where w e all must go,
W e pass the fields of the morning dew drops,
But how long till w e reach our stop?