Beneath the silver moon, the iron serpent glides,
Through valleys deep and mountains wide.
A symphony of wheels, a melody of steel,
As dreams and hopes, the night reveals.

The tracks, they sing a lullaby old,
To weary hearts and souls so bold.
From city lights to country dawn,
The train moves on, a timeless song.

In the quiet of the night, a whistle blows,
A fleeting moment, the world slows.
Echoes of the past, whispers of the now,
The journey’s end, we can’t disavow.

Through rain and snow, sun and mist,
The train persists, an eternal tryst.
A passage through the heart, a voyage grand,
The iron serpent, across the land.