The grease trap hums a steady low drone
A diner booth feels like a dead zone
She pours the brown brew in a white cup
Waitin' for the sun to wake it up
He stares at salt shakers in a row
His heavy eyes have nowhere left to go
The vinyl seat is cracked and cold and grey
He looks like he has too much left to say
Oh, the coffee is black and the light is blue
She is watching the clock and she's watching you
Keep the pot warm until the morning break
Counting every single little mistake
She wipes the counter with a damp red rag
His leather suitcase is a heavy bag
He smokes a cigarette by the open door
The linoleum is scarred on the floor
Oh, the coffee is black and the light is blue
She is watching the clock and she's watching you
Keep the pot warm until the morning break
Counting every single little mistake
Silverware clinks in a plastic bin
Where the midnight ghosts all wander in
She sees the way that his shoulder shakes
The kind of quiet that a spirit breaks
He tips a dollar and he leaves the booth
The cold wind tells a jagged kind of truth
She watches the taillights fade into red
The things that the stranger never said
She turns the burner to a low slow heat
The empty highway is a lonely street
She hums a hymn that her mother once knew
While the early morning sky turns a hue
Oh, the coffee is black and the light is blue
She is watching the clock and she's watching you
Keep the pot warm until the morning break
Counting every single little mistake
Just a little mistake.
Black coffee, blue light.
Three AM.
