You hold a page from eighty-two
A faded shade of royal blue
It slides across the cedar floor
Right past the heavy screen-mesh door
The thunder rolls a heavy drum
The coffee in the pot is done
The wind is pushing through the screen
The wildest storm you've ever seen
Paper transit map in the rain
Driving like a runaway train
Sailing on a wooden porch floor
Heading for the open wide door
You watch the colored lines all blur
Like grease on plates or feline fur
The ink is bleeding in the wet
A gamble and a losing bet
The thunder rolls a heavy drum
The coffee in the pot is done
The wind is pushing through the screen
The wildest storm you've ever seen
Paper transit map in the rain
Driving like a runaway train
Sailing on a wooden porch floor
Heading for the open wide door
You try to grab the drifting sheet
While lightning hits the empty street
It spins around a rusted nail
A paper ship without a sail
Paper transit map in the rain
Driving like a runaway train
Sailing on a wooden porch floor
Heading for the open wide door
You remember trains in the dark
The metal screech the sudden spark
The city grid is gone from sight
Lost inside a sudden white light
Paper transit map in the rain
Driving like a runaway train
Sailing on a wooden porch floor
Heading for the open wide door
Just a piece of paper in the wind
Where the city ends and storms begin
Heading for the door
Heading for the door
