I am the booth in the corner seat
Where the coffee and the diesel meet
I feel the vibration in my frame
A midnight ghost with a hidden name
Counting footsteps on the linoleum floor
Walking past the open diner door
Greenhouse dirt on a pair of worn out shoes
Midnight rhythm and the 3am blues
He smells like potting soil and wet pine
Crossing over the yellow caution line
He doesn't stop for a slice of pie
Just a flicker in a tired eye
Counting footsteps on the linoleum floor
Walking past the open diner door
Greenhouse dirt on a pair of worn out shoes
Midnight rhythm and the 3am blues
The cook is flipping burgers on the grill
While the clock on the wall is standing still
He paces left then he pivots right
A steady pulse in the dead of night
Counting footsteps on the linoleum floor
Walking past the open diner door
Greenhouse dirt on a pair of worn out shoes
Midnight rhythm and the 3am blues
The Moog is humming a heavy line
The silver sugar shakers start to shine
One more lap till the sun breaks through
A lonely dance for a chosen few
He carries seeds in a plastic bag
The morning spirit begins to lag
He leaves a print by the vinyl red
While the city is tucked in its bed
Counting footsteps on the linoleum floor
Walking past the open diner door
Greenhouse dirt on a pair of worn out shoes
Midnight rhythm and the 3am blues
Keep on walking.
Just a ghost in the glass.
Counting steps.
One more time.
