Ten coaches roll into the dust
Chrome windows turned to rust
'Hand on inside they know they must
Hanging on the green backed words In God we trust
No one knew if the spirit died
All wrapped to go like Kentucky Fried
Tring to read the flight of birds
Low on fuel, getting low on words
and she comes out like a white shadow
she comes out like a white shadow
Each one drawn to empty spaces
Outsiders, borderline cases
It's hard to tell black from white
When you wake up in the middle of the night
Weighed down by the absence of sound
Broken now by the cry of a hound
Looking for movement withing the haze
Light can be deceptive with her rays
and she comes out like a white sadow
and she comes out like a white shadow
she comes out like a white shadow

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