In the sapling years of the post war world 
In an English market town 
I do believe we travelled in schoolboy blue 
The cap upon the crown 
Books on knee 
Our faces pressed against the dusty railway carriage panes 
As all our lives went rolling on the clicking wheels of trains 
The school years passed like eternity 
And at last were left behind 
And it seemed the city was calling me 
To see what I might find 
Almost grown, I stood before horizons made of dreams 
I think I stole a kiss or two while rolling on the clicking 
wheels of trains 
Trains 
All our lives were a whistle stop affair 
No ties or chains 
Throwing words like fireworks in the air 
Not much remains 
A photograph in your memory 
Through the coloured lens of time 
All our lives were just a smudge of smoke against the sky 
The silver rails spread far and wide 
Through the nineteenth century 
Some straight and true, some serpentine 
From the cities to the sea 
And out of sight 
Of those who rode in style there worked the military mind 
On through the night to plot and chart the twisting paths of 
trains 
On the day they buried Jean Jaurès 
World War One broke free 
Like an angry river overflowing 
Its banks impatiently 
While mile on mile 
The soldiers filled the railway stations arteries and veins 
I see them now go laughing on the clicking wheels of trains 
Trains 
Rolling off to the front 
Across the narrow Russian gauge 
Weeks turn into months 
And the enthusiasm wanes 
Sacrifices in seas of mud, and still you don't know why 
All their lives are just a puff of smoke against the sky 
Then came surrender, then came the peace 
Then revolution out of the east 
Then came the crash, then came the tears 
Then came the thirties, the nightmare years 
Then came the same thing over again 
Mad as the moon 
That watches over the plain 
Oh, driven insane 
But oh what kind of trains are these 
That I never saw before 
Snatching up the refugees 
From the ghettoes of the war 
To stand confused 
With all their worldly goods, beneath the watching guard's disdain 
As young and old go rolling on the clicking wheels of trains 
And the driver only does this job 
With vodka in his coat 
And he turns around and he makes a sign 
With his hand across his throat 
For days on end 
Through sun and snow, the destination still remains the same 
For those who ride with death above the clicking wheels of trains 
Trains 
What became of the innocence 
They had in childhood games 
Painted red or blue 
When I was young they all had names 
Who'll remember the ones who only rode in them to die 
All their lives are just a smudge of smoke against the sky 
Now forty years have come and gone 
And I'm far away from there 
And I ride the Amtrak from NewYork City 
To Philadelphia 
And there's a man to bring you food and drink 
And sometimes passengers exchange 
A smile or two rolling on the humming wheels 
But I can't tell you if it's them 
Or if it's only me 
But I believe when they look outside 
They don't see what I see 
Over there 
Beyond the trees it seems that I can just make out the stained 
Fields of Poland calling out to all the passing trains 
Trains 
I suppose that there's nothing 
In this life remains the same 
Everything is governed 
By the losses and the gains 
Still sometimes I get caught up in the past I can't say why 
All our lives are just a smudge of smoke 
Or just a breath of wind against the sky