Ten coaches roll into the dust, chrome windows turned to rust
Hang on inside, they know they must, hanging on the green-backed words
"In God We Trust"
No one knows if the spirit died, all wrapped to go like Kentucky Fried,
Trying 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
Weighted down by the absence of sound, broken now by the cry of a hound,
Looking for movement within the haze, light can be deceptive with her rays

And she comes out like a white shadow,
And she comes out like a white shadow,
She comes out like a white shadow