Shift the gear and watch the light.
City veins are bleeding white.
Rain is hitting hard and fast.
Nothing gold is meant to last.
Saw a lot of empty stalls.
Ghostly screens and peeling walls.
Found a page beneath the grit.
Wet and torn and barely lit.
Ink is running in the rain.
Paper heavy with the pain.
Tangled in the rusted wire.
Cold as ice and devoid of fire.
Forty years I drove this beat.
Know the rhythm of the street.
Found a name I used to know.
Back when all the rhythms flow.
Ink is running in the rain.
Paper heavy with the pain.
Tangled in the rusted wire.
Cold as ice and devoid of fire.
A fare is just a ride to town.
The heavy clouds are coming down.
I hold the letter to the light.
Before I drive into the night.
Words of love and sudden fear.
Something that I need to hear.
Left behind in eighty-four.
Closing up a heavy door.
Fold it up and keep it tight.
Underneath the dashboard light.
Old men know the way it goes.
How the bitter winter blows.
Ink is running in the rain.
Paper heavy with the pain.
Tangled in the rusted wire.
Cold as ice and devoid of fire.
Meter running, time to go.
Driving steady, driving slow.
