Track Insight / Lyrics
Three am at the 42nd street
Where the grease and the subway heat meet
I flip the burgers and I pour the brew
Watching a stranger in a dusty hue.
He wears a holster made of old red hide
With a thousand miles of road inside.
Oh, he's got twin suns rusting in his eyes
Underneath these gray and heavy skies
A lonely drifter on a concrete floor
Waiting for the train to open the door.
His boots are cracked and his spurs are worn
Looking like a man who was roughly born
He orders coffee with a jagged grin
While the midnight subway starts to spin.
He wears a holster made of old red hide
With a thousand miles of road inside.
Oh, he's got twin suns rusting in his eyes
Underneath these gray and heavy skies
A lonely drifter on a concrete floor
Waiting for the train to open the door.
He talks of canyons and a copper wind
Where the law ends and the wild begins
But here he's just a ghost in a denim vest
Looking for a place where a man can rest.
Oh, he's got twin suns rusting in his eyes
Underneath these gray and heavy skies
A lonely drifter on a concrete floor
Waiting for the train to open the door.
I give him bacon and a toasted bun
He says the battle has already been won
He leans his back against the tiled wall
Waiting for the final whistle call.
Oh, he's got twin suns rusting in his eyes
Underneath these gray and heavy skies
A lonely drifter on a concrete floor
Waiting for the train to open the door.
Twin suns rusting, gold and red.
Last call, buddy, go to bed.
