He dials a knob on a heavy black box
The clock on the wall has a rhythmic tick-tock
Across the dark highway the radio hums
Waiting for news till the morning light comes
Three A.
M. in a silver booth glow
Watching the headlights and traffic flow slow
Static and coffee and a low frequency
He captures the ghost of a lost melody
A girl with a camera and scuffed leather shoes
Sips on a milkshake and reads the late news
She snaps a quick photo of grease on a plate
While the operator decides on her fate
Three A.
M. in a silver booth glow
Watching the headlights and traffic flow slow
Static and coffee and a low frequency
He captures the ghost of a lost melody
He speaks to the void through a heavy steel wire
The air in the diner is thick as a fire
The sugar shaker is a tower of white
Against the deep velvet of a mid-winter night
Three A.
M. in a silver booth glow
Watching the headlights and traffic flow slow
Static and coffee and a low frequency
He captures the ghost of a lost melody
The bus stops out front with a hiss of the brake
Another cold morning for a runaway's sake
He switches the channel to a distant far shore
Then locks the heavy and rusted front door
Three A.
M. in a silver booth glow
Watching the headlights and traffic flow slow
Static and coffee and a low frequency
He captures the ghost of a lost melody
Over and out on the silver line
Everything's steady and everything's fine
