You tune the bow beneath a flickering bulb
The tiled walls eat every note you solve
A plastic case lies open at your feet
No coins tonight just wind along the street
The train arrives but you don't board the car
You've memorized the schedule like a star
The platform hums a frequency you know
Three hours left before the morning glow
Rosin and rails the city's salt and pine
You play for ghosts who miss the last train line
No lighthouse beam to cut the tunnel dark
Just friction singing through the vibrating arc
Your fingers smell of metal horsehair sweat
The Stradivarius copy holds its debt
A transit cop walks past and checks his watch
He doesn't ask you why you catch the notch
The express roars but you don't lift the bow
You've mapped the rhythm of the undertow
The fluorescent buzz becomes a drone you own
Three hours left before the world is known
Rosin and rails the city's salt and pine
You play for ghosts who miss the last train line
No lighthouse beam to cut the tunnel dark
Just friction singing through the vibrating arc
A cleaner pushes cart wheels over cracks
He nods his head no money in the sacks
You see the ocean in the tunnel's curve
Each phrase a wave that breaks without a nerve
Rosin and rails the city's salt and pine
You play for ghosts who miss the last train line
No lighthouse beam to cut the tunnel dark
Just friction singing through the vibrating arc
The vinyl seat holds warmth from someone's coat
You play the tune that kept the ships afloat
No foghorn here just brakes that scream and hiss
Your bow draws light across the dark abyss
Rosin and rails the city's salt and pine
You play for ghosts who miss the last train line
No lighthouse beam to cut the tunnel dark
Just friction singing through the vibrating arc
First commuter steps down briefcase in hand
She pauses drops a dollar in the stand
You nod once salt-stiff fingers on the wood
The platform empties like a tide that could
Rosin and rails the city's salt and pine
You play for ghosts who miss the last train line
No lighthouse beam to cut the tunnel dark
Just friction singing through the vibrating arc
Rosin and rails the city's salt and pine
You walk the tracks toward the morning line
