Griddle sings a greasy lullaby
Coffee steam paints haze on window glass
Regulars don't ask for reasons why
They just watch the heavy minutes pass
Silver disc beneath the vinyl seat
Humming low a magnetic beat
Points a path past the parking lot street
Keeps the night shift grounded on its feet
Found it stuck in gum under booth four
Tarnished chain but the face shines bright
Previous owner walked out the door
Left it spinning in the dead of night
Silver disc beneath the vinyl seat
Humming low a magnetic beat
Points a path past the parking lot street
Keeps the night shift grounded on its feet
It don't point north like a proper tool
Vibrates soft when the grill gets hot
Knows exactly where to bend the rule
Hits the spot when the coffee's not
Truckers dream of highways made of gold
Waitress counts her tips in paper folds
Compass hums a story to be told
Warm and steady when the night gets cold
My hands are cracked from grease and flame
But I hold that silver in my palm
It hums directions without a name
A quiet map a steady calm
Silver disc beneath the vinyl seat
Humming low a magnetic beat
Points a path past the parking lot street
Keeps the night shift grounded on its feet
Dawn cracks the window gray and thin
Regulars pay up and hit the road
Compass stops its humming deep within
Points me toward the kitchen's heavy load
Silver disc beneath the vinyl seat
Humming low a magnetic beat
Points a path past the parking lot street
Keeps the night shift grounded on its feet
Silver disc goes silent in my pocket deep
North by coffee promises to keep