Well I've followed you a hundred years, and the journey's led us here
To a hundred one a-coming fast, another age so near

Are you going my way, stranger? For a stranger you might be
But you aren't and we both know it, and we know I'll go with thee
Hundred One is mighty fine, but think how great it'll be:
Two Hundred One and your ancient bones still make a bone of me

Yes two hundred one, when skin is paper, I'll still hold you near
And inhale the dust that once was your hair, and sneeze it in your ear

Can you see the tracks ahead? I can hear the whistle CHOO
As it spits what we will be, in time: black ash in sky of blue
Hundred One is nearing now, and I'll board this train with you
But know, my love, that I am yours, and whatever you see fit, do

I've followed you a hundred years, and I am following still
For a love like this, with stones or sticks or magic or tricks or spears or swords or guns or words, you simply cannot ****