Track Insight / Lyrics
Rain taps the windshield, four-fifteen.
Coffee glows red in a white tin.
I clock her break from the meter light—
Three minutes left till the street comes right.
She pours half a cup for the waiting room.
Steam marks the sleeve of her faded blue.
A pager hums under linen and tile.
She says, "Keep warm," with a tired little smile.
Fluorescent squares cross her hollow cheeks.
A plastic spoon slips and the coffee speaks.
Through fogged-up glass, I can see her stand.
One hand on her hip, one hand on the land.
Her night runs twelve laps round a darkened ward.
She steadies a stranger with elbow and cord.
The vending machine coughs out a cardboard prize.
She pockets the change with a half-lidded eye.
The taxi clock clicks like a cricket indoors.
She reads one last message, then closes the doors.
A thunderclap rolls past the cross-town bridge.
Her tired eyes lift to the edge of the light.
Rain finds the rhythm, one-two-three.
The bass drones low while the city turns.
I've carried the rich and the blue and the bare.
But strength has a look the night nurses wear.
She drains what is left, then folds up the tin.
A colleague calls softly, "There's rounds let's begin."
She waves at my window, no fare between.
The street keeps her moving, but I've seen the unseen.
Give me three minutes to turn the town around.
Let the tired eyes rise from the coffee ground.
I'll keep the meter low, I'll keep the cab warm.
She gets one small glimmer before the alarm.
Give me three minutes to turn the town around.
Let the tired eyes rise from the coffee ground.
I'll keep the meter low, I'll keep the cab warm.
She gets one small glimmer before the alarm.
Give me three minutes to turn the town around.
Let the tired eyes rise from the coffee ground.
I'll keep the meter low, I'll keep the cab warm.
She gets one small glimmer before the alarm.
Headlights paint gold on the flooded street.
One more red cup and her feet find their heat.
Rain clears the glass as the skyline turns blue.
I'll carry the night till she's rested through.
