Do you know how many cities had been built   On the mainland and the trains there    How they'd glide over the marshes    And the hazy sea      Carrying business men in starched collar shirts    Who peered out windows that would fog   Faster than you could wipe them, man       Why are there mountains   Then the last fire dies    We rebuild with foundations    Set just slightly higher    On compacted ash and bone   Spiralling skyward at the GWB    Will you take the wheel for a while    I'm suddenly real tired       We two running our course    Your summer version    Was so fresh and fertile emerald green   The wind in your hair   Like wind Russian through the canopy    And I was green too with robust fucked envy       And the way suspension bridges shake    When you're stopped behind trucks   Sailing into 1999