The sky is a bruised kind of grey
The mud pulls the wagon away
Old pine beams are starting to groan
Cold wind hits the citadel stone
Oh hear the heavy timber rain
The iron links pull on the chain
The wooden arms bend to the gale
A heavy load, a broken trail
The ropes are all soaked to the bone
The watchman is standing alone
He counts every bolt and each nail
While the winter wind starts to wail
I drove a cab through the low east
Now I watch this mechanical beast
The rain turns the gravel to glue
The same old story, something new
Oh hear the heavy timber rain
The iron links pull on the chain
The wooden arms bend to the gale
A heavy load, a broken trail
Lean on the wind till the timber snaps
The map of the city has too many gaps
One big crack and the engine will fall
Right through the gap in the citadel wall
The grease on the axle is gone
We wait for the light of the dawn
Just a few more turns of the wheel
Until the cold stone meets the steel
Oh hear the heavy timber rain
The iron links pull on the chain
The wooden arms bend to the gale
A heavy load, a broken trail
Just keep it steady.
Hold that line.
Hold the line.
