You sit where the two roads meet
With asphalt burning in the heat
The gas pump hums a heavy tune
Underneath a pale yellow moon
Swing low in the rusted rocker chair
The midnight grease is in the air
You watch the headlights fade to gray
While the wooden slats fray away
The paint is peeling off the pine
You're tracing every jagged line
A nickel coin inside your palm
Keeping all the static calm
Swing low in the rusted rocker chair
The midnight grease is in the air
You watch the headlights fade to gray
While the wooden slats fray away
The diesel fumes are thick and sweet
The oil stains soak into the street
You wait for a fare that never calls
Until the heavy curtain falls
Swing low in the rusted rocker chair
The midnight grease is in the air
You watch the headlights fade to gray
While the wooden slats fray away
One last bolt begins to slide
Nowhere left for a man to hide
The porch is leaning to the west
Give those tired old ankles a rest
Swing low in the rusted rocker chair
The midnight grease is in the air
You watch the headlights fade to gray
While the wooden slats fray away
Just a ghost in the glow.
End of the line.
Ride on home.
