Porcupine Tree

Train set and match spied under the blind
Shiny and contoured the railway winds
And I've heard the sound from my cousin's bed
The hiss of the train at the railway head
Always the summers are slipping away
A 60 ton angel falls to the earth
A pile of old metal, a radiant blur
Scars in the country, the summer and her
Always the summers are slipping away