You fold the corners paper thin and worn
Nineteen eighty-two the night you were born
Rain slicks the Ginza lines a silver thread
Salarymen stumble home to sleep in bed
Coffee steams beside the grill at three
Map trembles when the freight train shakes the tree
Red circle green circle blue square route
You trace the stations grease-stained thumb no doubt
Midnight map Tokyo hold the city's pulse
Neon drips on paper gravity repulse
Every line a lifeline every stop a breath
Guide the lost ones through the night to rest
Cook yells Order up but you don't turn
Eyes stay fixed where Chiyoda stations burn
Tourist asks for Shibuya in English
Point with spatula no need to finish
Midnight map Tokyo hold the city's pulse
Neon drips on paper gravity repulse
Every line a lifeline every stop a breath
Guide the lost ones through the night to rest
Paper yellows at the edges where you crease
Thirty years of folds a masterpiece
Still you're current still you show the way
Digital screens fade to gray
Last train rattles windows glowing gold
Stories rise like steam too brief to hold
Wink at Yamanote's eternal loop
Shortcut only veterans could scoop
Dawn cracks the sky the alley wakes in pink
Tuck the map away no time to think
Tomorrow night you'll spread it out once more
City's paper heart beats on the floor
Midnight map Tokyo hold the city's pulse
Neon drips on paper gravity repulse
Every line a lifeline every stop a breath
Guide the lost ones through the night to rest
Midnight map Tokyo hold the city's pulse
Neon drips on paper gravity repulse
Every line a lifeline every stop a breath
Guide the lost ones through the night to rest
Midnight map Tokyo you're the city's pulse
Neon drips on paper gravity repulse
Fold it slow the night shift ends
Tokyo wakes the map descends