The platform hums beneath his feet
One loose coin marks the final beat
He zips the case beside the wall
The midnight train refuses to call
He counts the pennies in his palm
A cardboard sign beneath one arm
The tunnel steals his melody
But echoes keep his harmony
He clips the final chord in place
A woman catches half his face
Her silver coin lands in the case
For one bright moment, grace finds space
He folds the night into his guitar
And packs the cold beside the scars
Then one open hand says he is here
A little stranger, suddenly near
He folds the night into his guitar
Then steps beyond the darkened bars
While one open hand says he is here
And morning warms the closing scars
The turnstile spits a copper sound
A porter watches from the ground
He shoulders up the leather throne
The city leaves him walking home
His pick slips loose beside the door
It flashes gold against the floor
A girl in red retrieves the spark
He plays one chord across the dark
And in the breath before departing
The broken platform starts believing
Every empty place is waiting
For one small spark of human breathing
He folds the night into his guitar
And packs the cold beside the scars
Then one open hand says he is here
A little stranger, suddenly near
He folds the night into his guitar
Then steps beyond the darkened bars
While one open hand says he is here
And morning warms the closing scars
He folds the night into his guitar
The tunnel opens, doors divide
Then one open hand says he is here
A passing spark refuses to hide
He folds the night into his guitar
And carries morning in his scars
While one open hand says he is here
And one small light becomes a star
The platform hums beneath his feet
One loose coin marks the closing beat
He walks into the blue-gray dark
With one small light left in his heart
