Cold Chisel - Dresden Lyrics
The morning breeze is off and goneThe winding factory streets are cleanOld ladies put the kettle onAnd all-night lechers pause and leanOn grey shop windows, everywhereA deeper hum is in the airHotel room, drifter leaves no cluesHe rides a freight-train out of townAnd whistles at the icy rimeThe cattle float like thistle-downsAnd God is on the edge of timeSomewhere behind a siren wailsThe freight-train soars above the railsThe traveller, he's hard as nailsAs the train sweeps down the lineThe salmon Season's here to stayAnd etched into each shoulder-boneThe mark of Cain is on displayAs stone above each measured stoneOld Dresden burns above the breezeThe traveller, he's on his kneesHe's watching sledge-wings dip and playSo far above the holy throneDresden blues . . .