Three am on the concrete floor
Steel rails leading to the door
Hands are rough and skin is brown
Deep in the belly of the town
Buffing the midnight black on the shoe
Waiting for something honest and true
Keep the lamp burning, keep the eye keen
Cleanest leather this city has seen
Old man sits on a wooden crate
Watching the clock and the hour late
Sanding the scuffs from a rich man's heel
Working the grain with a steady feel
Buffing the midnight black on the shoe
Waiting for something honest and true
Keep the lamp burning, keep the eye keen
Cleanest leather this city has seen
White tiles glow in the humming light
Cutting a hole through the heavy night
No one is here but the wind and the grit
Watching the fuse till the signal is lit
Buffing the midnight black on the shoe
Waiting for something honest and true
Keep the lamp burning, keep the eye keen
Cleanest leather this city has seen
He knows the tide of the iron track
Once it departs it is never back
Sifting the salt from the city steam
Holding the line like a steady beam
Rub the wax till the surface glows
Where the current of the subway flows
Strong as a wall in a winter gale
Hard as the iron on a rusted rail
One last shine for the coming train
Washing the street of the city stain
Patient and still in the hollow glare
Breathing the weight of the station air
Buffing the midnight black on the shoe
Waiting for something honest and true
Keep the lamp burning, keep the eye keen
Cleanest leather this city has seen
Keep the lamp burning.
Keep it keen.
Buff it bright.
