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TV Smith >>
Rattling down the track on iron wheels
This is not an exercise, it's for real
I'm up here in the rushing wind, way down there
London is just a traffic jam
You can't walk the streets
Or breathe the air
I'm a runaway train driver
Heading off the rails
Thundering through the night with the moon in my eyes
Out into the daybreak and the new sunrise
All I found was loneliness in the crush of the crowd
But I'm bound for freedom now
I've got power and speed
I'm never slowing down
I'm a runaway train driver
Heading off the rails
I am no ordinary vandal, oh no
I'm hanging on to the dead man's handle
And I'm never going to let go
This is not the green train
I'm pulling this cargo up and over the top
It's a loaded son of a gun with the hammer cocked
Slow-moving son of a bomb, soon it's going to roll
It's too late to evacuate
It wouldn't do any good
Where could you go?
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