Abandoned places in the night. There’s nothing I love better: The dismal gray-black sky above The cold, oppressive weather – The trains, they left here years ago Their voices long since died; But here, amidst their ghosts, I am – And it’s My kind Of ride
I do not know what once it might have been.
I do not stand in judgment.
Out beside the rippling lake...
"It's hard now to believe it."
Finding an abandoned factory.