It looks like a mile to the valley below
the next man went over and he went down slow

I lie on this bunk and listen to the rainfall
it's work, stop and start over again

And it takes a stranger to understand
what the wind says in a strange land

The wind says:
this year, next year
this year, next year
this year, next year
and I kiss you I kiss you I kiss you
every shift of this life

They guard their comfort like they're guarding gold
we danced all night in the boxcars to keep out the cold

That freedom that they love so well
is nothing but the echo of an old cracked bell

The bell says:
this year, next year
this year, next year
this year, next year
and I kiss you I kiss you I kiss you
every shift of this life

at the edge of the wealth of the world

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