Track Insight / Lyrics
Carbon scoring on my deck plates tells the tale
Twelve years since a freighter left a vapor trail
The cyclist spins his wheels in vacuum hush
I hold the air while stars burn cold and crush
Dispatch logs show zero traffic, all routes clear
Nightshift orbit, meter running deep
Promises the bay door always keeps
One lone rider, pedaling through the black
I'm the roof above, I've got his back
Witness to the grind where silence speaks
His tires kiss the composite, silent tread
Oxygen scrubbers hum where dreams are fed
No fare to collect, no destination set
Just laps around the bulkhead, silhouette
The long haul changes how a driver sees
Nightshift orbit, meter running deep
Promises the bay door always keeps
One lone rider, pedaling through the black
I'm the roof above, I've got his back
Witness to the grind where silence speaks
Meteor dust collects on my outer skin
I've weathered solar flares, let radiation in
The cyclist checks his HUD, heart rate steady, low
I've seen ten thousand orbits come and go
Every regular knows the rhythm of the road
Warning lights blink amber on the control panel
Systems wake from sleep, the bay doors dismantle
A supply ship drops from warp, massive and loud
I cycle the airlock, make the pressure proud
New cargo manifests, new fares to haul
New crates arrive, stamped with Earth origin codes
The cyclist stops, unclips his heavy loads
My gravity holds what the void wants to steal
I've carried heavier burdens, made of steel
The meter ticks regardless of the weight
Nightshift orbit, meter running deep
Promises the bay door always keeps
One lone rider, pedaling through the black
I'm the roof above, I've got his back
Witness to the grind where silence speaks
Shift change comes, the cyclist clips his final lap
Wipes the sweat from visor, closes up the gap
Another watch begins when the next sun rises
I'll still be here, counting cosmic surprises
Old cabbies never quit, we just park and wait
Nightshift orbit, meter running deep
Promises the bay door always keeps
One lone rider, pedaling through the black
I'm the roof above, I've got his back
Nightshift orbit, witness to the grind
The oldest cab in orbit, leaving none behind
Bay doors seal. Pressure holds. Meter stops.
The cyclist rests. The hangar watches.
