Suburban Plains

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