The trains, the trains, they cross the lines
They carry us and curve us
But secrets lie where signs direct:
The land of Not in Service

If you should stop at random parts
The trains, the trains are waiting
At spectre-stations boarding ghosts,
Their torment unabating

The trains, the trains will bring you home
There’s no cause to be nervous
But once you’re gone they find their rest:
The land of Not in Service