Testo Engine Driver Million Dead
When I grow up I want to be an engine driver.
Iâll build up my own head of steam â 25 horsepower.
Old hands, new power,
more miles per hour â
strange light in the ancient mills.
New sights, old eyes,
giant leaps under small skies â
a sense of death in the hills.
But when I pull off, I donât want to follow timetables or tracks.
I will cut new paths through topsoil and tarmac.
Old hands, new power,
more miles per hour â
strange light in the ancient mills.
New sights, old eyes,
giant leaps under small skies â
a sense of death in the hills.
The only thing that I will leave behind
is a simple trail â two stark parallel lines
that cut their way away across the land,
which our children will preserve but wonât understand.