We head downhill, my hands fly back
Our fingers freeze, our hair falls out, our hair falls out
Our fingers freeze, our hair falls out
The iron piston pumps and spouts
The steaming air as hot as sprouts
All aboard, Brenda's iron sledge
No one's on top, they're comfortable
They're sitting on a human chain, a human chain
They're sitting on a human chain
Their limbs compressed in icy slush