He holds a ticket in his hand
A stranger in a salty land
He wears a jacket worn and grey
To hide the heat of middle day
The diesel pump begins to hum
He beats a rhythm like a drum
He watches trucks roll down the line
While waiting for a secret sign
Under the glow of a buzzing light
Sheltered away from the heavy night
Crossroads of oil and a concrete floor
He does not look for the open door
The ferry dock is far behind
A different harbor on his mind
He keeps his boots in heavy mud
The river rushing in his blood
Under the glow of a buzzing light
Sheltered away from the heavy night
Crossroads of oil and a concrete floor
He does not look for the open door
The coffee pot is burning black
There is no road to lead him back
The yellow lines are blurred and thin
Where all the lonely miles begin
He counts the coins inside his palm
The midnight air is thick and calm
A humming wire above his head
A dusty map where hope is read
The headlights cut a silver streak
The wooden porch begins to creak
He stands his ground in petrol haze
Lost in a summer golden daze
Under the glow of a buzzing light
Sheltered away from the heavy night
Crossroads of oil and a concrete floor
He does not look for the open door
Just a deckhand in the rain
Waiting for the midnight train
Neon glow, neon glow.
