Night shift ends at six AM sharp
Coffee rings stain the counter chart
Regulars laugh at the same old jokes
Bacon sizzle sings through smoke
Morning light crawls across the attic floor
Piano breathes in keys no one played before
Tuner watches dust rise in gold beams
Dawn writes songs that night shift dreams
Hammers rest on felt worn soft by years
Attic window frames the waking tears
Each string remembers fingers gone
Tuning pins hold tension drawn
Morning light crawls across the attic floor
Piano breathes in keys no one played before
Tuner watches dust rise in gold beams
Dawn writes songs that night shift dreams
Counter stools spin empty dead quiet
Pie cases glow with sugar crowned
Short order tickets flutter like dead wings
Coffee pot drips its last dark things
Morning light crawls across the attic floor
Piano breathes in keys no one played before
Tuner watches dust rise in gold beams
Dawn writes songs that night shift dreams
Slide guitar hums from the floor below
Harmonica wheezes soft and slow
Pump organ breathes hymns nobody knows
Resonator sings in dusty rows
Morning light crawls across the attic floor
Piano breathes in keys no one played before
Tuner watches dust rise in gold beams
Dawn writes songs that night shift dreams
Cook flips sign to closed for good today
Tuner strikes middle C one final time
Sun hits soundboard wood drinks it deep
Two lives cross where harmonies sleep
Apron hangs on nail by back door screen
Bell above it rings no more for beans
Walk home past the house with attic glass
Hear the piano smile as mornings pass
Morning light crawls across the attic floor
Piano breathes in keys no one played before
Tuner watches dust rise in gold beams
Dawn writes songs that night shift dreams
Dawn writes songs that night shift dreams
Wrench rests quiet on the velvet case
Coffee cup empty on the windowsill
