Sun setting in a chuch

In the end, you are tired in this ancient world

Though, there are not so many bridges to shepherd

Here where the trains built the nation 

And the tracks run like rivers through history

Some things are always lost in translation,

Straightlining arabesques where the meaning lay, 

Dammed lands suddenly predictable and wrong 

Rang upon rang intersecting for a common claim 

To hold water in your hands, do you know what

I mean? It's like the West if the West had water

I mean originally, I mean if you tore apart the land 

Like an orange and felt it run down your arm

It's skin splintered and tiny jewels fanning out like

Flames surrounding the Virgin who winked at me

Who seemed to say if I am tired I should stay and 

See what color the windows stain my palms