Whenever the time is right I will think of you Whatever I might find I will think of you Walking the black, steel rail across suburban plains Watching the summer's hand bend the long, green blades Hoping to stumble on the pieces of my youth Cinnamon copper Quenn, still so flat and smooth Pardon me, Your Majesty, for never stopping by I can see you're lonely living life upon the line So let this be the end of everything that could I'm so tired of all the things I'll never know Stop on the trestle bridge, Sixteen Mile below Whetting it's appetite with the same old sticks and hopes Are you happy upon your course, worn by centuries Or searching beneath these stones for something else to be Would you take me with you on uour cold and bumpy ride If I hit the water then there's nothing to decide