I got a coat of orange scale
A heavy load of rusted nail
I slid right off the midnight track
And now there ain't no coming back
I am the iron on the hill
Watching the city standing still
High above the cobblestone
A heavy ghost sitting alone
I see the bakers bake their bread
The velvet caps upon a head
The coffee steam in morning air
A quiet world beyond compare
I am the iron on the hill
Watching the city standing still
High above the cobblestone
A heavy ghost sitting alone
The pigeons nest inside my frame
They do not know my serial name
They bring the twigs and dry old grass
While all the fancy carriages pass
I am the iron on the hill
Watching the city standing still
High above the cobblestone
A heavy ghost sitting alone
My wheels are locked in garden clay
I watch the yellow light of day
The wind just hums a low blue song
Where a freight car don't belong
I smell the rain on zinc and slate
A heavy piece of metal freight
I watch the lovers walk the line
And wish this view was truly mine
I am the iron on the hill
Watching the city standing still
High above the cobblestone
A heavy ghost sitting alone
Just a rusty iron view.
Yeah, just me and the roof.
