September 12, 2009

Subterranean Nocturne (lyric)

2 in the morning,
the rats all asleep
Each bench on the platform
holds a soul to keep
All here with their luggage,
their lives piled around them
Taking time off the struggle
Down here, underground

The men off the night shift
Dirty shoes and dead eyes
Heading home to
Sleeping children and wives
Dreaming of weekends
Of their next vacation
Never quite getting
Past the last station

And the tourists from
Texas or France or Japan
Movie stars in their eyes
Subway maps in their hands
Trying not to look up
From their nights on the town
Stuck here with the locals
Down here, underground

And the trains keep on coming
They keep their own schedule
The minutes keep going
Too many to mention
And the wheels in the tracks
Make a high, homeward sound
Passes for music
Down here, underground.

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