You found it leaning on the yellow edge
Where tunnel wind sings through the turnstile teeth
A rusted can with no flowers to pledge
Just condensation beads on iron wreath
And you carry it like a choir boy's psalm
Through corridors where no hymnal stays
The water sloshes a steady calm
Baptizing dust in the fluorescent haze
You're the keeper of tin can gospel
The token clerk don't blink at your parade
One bootheel tapping on the concrete spine
You trace the spout where green paint once stayed
And hum the descant from a borrowed line
And you carry it like a choir boy's psalm
Through corridors where no hymnal stays
The water sloshes a steady calm
Baptizing dust in the fluorescent haze
You're the keeper of tin can gospel
A rat drags crust past your worn-out soles
The pedal steel cries from a busker's case
You pour a sip where the darkness rolls
And watch the puddle catch the tunnel's face
Your alto breath finds the acoustics here
Where mosaic tiles eat every sound
No stained glass saints to witness near
Just steel beams humming underground
The can grows heavy in your calloused hand
The express train shakes the platform boards
A sudden gust from the arriving beast
You shelter the spout with cupped hands toward
The few drops left for a phantom feast
And you carry it like a choir boy's psalm
Through corridors where no hymnal stays
The water sloshes a steady calm
Baptizing dust in the fluorescent haze
You're the keeper of tin can gospel
Dawn bleeds gray through the ventilation grates
The night shift workers check their wristwatch time
You set the can down near the exit gates
And leave it singing in a borrowed rhyme
And you carried it like a choir boy's psalm
Through corridors where no hymnal stays
The water sloshed its steady calm
Baptizing dust in the fluorescent haze
You're the keeper of tin can gospel
Now the rust blooms where the platform lays
Tin can gospel on the platform floor
Tin can gospel, nothing more
