You step off the curb in the cold
Where the stories of the city unfold
Your apron is folded and put away
The diner is closed for the end of the day
At the third hour platform you stand
With a cold cup of coffee in hand
Wait for the train that will never arrive
Just to feel like you're barely alive
The tiles are all cracked and they're grey
The midnight express has gone far away
You smell the damp concrete and the rust
The wind kicks up a layer of dust
You remember the dress that you wore
Back when you walked through that open door
The city was young and the rent was a dime
You were just a girl in a different time
At the third hour platform you stand
With a cold cup of coffee in hand
Wait for the train that will never arrive
Just to feel like you're barely alive
The clock on the wall has a heavy tick
The air in the tunnel is heavy and thick
You look at your watch but the hands don't move
You're stuck in a deep and a lonely groove
The headlights appear with a distant glare
A sudden cold breeze hits the humid air
The doors open wide with a metallic scream
Waking you up from a long winter dream
At the third hour platform you stand
With a cold cup of coffee in hand
Wait for the train that will never arrive
Just to feel like you're barely alive
Just a fare in the night.
Heading home in the light. Third hour platform.
Yeah, heading home.
