(原詩)

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 knew 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

Weighed 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