Cold iron skin in the white of the snow
Where the old apple branches hang low
I'm just a box on a dead-ended track
Waiting for something that ain't coming back
The wind kicks a grit in my eye
Under a bruised purple sky
I'm just rust in the orchard tonight
Holding the ghost of a flickering light
Sinking deep in the frozen black ground
Where the only true rhythm is sound
The freight was heavy with grain and with gold
Now I am brittle and grey and I'm old
The wheels are frozen in a hard winter grip
Watching the last of the summer days slip
The wind kicks a grit in my eye
Under a bruised purple sky
I'm just rust in the orchard tonight
Holding the ghost of a flickering light
Sinking deep in the frozen black ground
Where the only true rhythm is sound
A taxi driver knows how the road bends
He knows where the city and the prairie ends
He'd tell me the fare for a ride to the coast
But I'm just a heavy and iron-clad ghost
The frost bites the steel with a sharp silver tooth
The rust is the only thing telling the truth
No engine is humming no whistle will blow
Just the slow steady drift of the oncoming snow
I'm just rust in the orchard tonight
Holding the ghost of a flickering light
Sinking deep in the frozen black ground
Where the only true rhythm is sound
The apples are shriveled and hard on the limb
The light in the valley is distant and dim
I'll stay in the orchard till the metal turns red
And the ghosts of the railway are finally fed
I'm just rust in the orchard tonight
Holding the ghost of a flickering light
Sinking deep in the frozen black ground
Where the only true rhythm is sound
Just rust in the orchard.
Sinking in the ground.
