You stand where the cold tiles meet
Three in the morning on the street
The tunnel wind blows hard and low
Waiting for the steel train to go
You hold a scrap of folded page
A bird escaped a heavy cage
The white ink glows against the black
Right here on the iron track
Fly high on a white paper wing
Hear the rusty subway singing
Catch the light of a lonely bulb
Deep inside the city's hull
You launch it from a shaking hand
Across a bleak and concrete land
It glides above the grease and grime
Sailing through a frozen time
You hold a scrap of folded page
A bird escaped a heavy cage
The white ink glows against the black
Right here on the iron track
Fly high on a white paper wing
Hear the rusty subway singing
Catch the light of a lonely bulb
Deep inside the city's hull
It looks like a beacon in the dark
A tiny white and sudden spark
Like the lamp I kept on the shore
When the winter gale would roar
Fly high on a white paper wing
Hear the rusty subway singing
Catch the light of a lonely bulb
Deep inside the city's hull
The headlights hit the tunnel wall
The heavy iron engines call
Your paper plane begins to dip
Giving you a steady grip
Fly high on a white paper wing
Hear the rusty subway singing
Catch the light of a lonely bulb
Deep inside the city's hull
Just a scrap of white on the floor.
Wait for the open sliding door.
White paper wing.
