Cold grease on a white paper plate
Coffee burns the tongue way too late
Steel rails humming under the floor
I can't take this shift anymore
Wait for the ghost of the final train
Wash out the salt and the city stain
Hold on to ink on a faded page
Locked in a cold and a metal cage
Salty fries and a cheap plastic cup
The last of the regulars stand up
I watch as the tile turns to gray
Wishing the night would just go away
Paper thin and a stamp from the coast
I am a witness and I am a ghost
Watching the tunnel go black and deep
While the rest of the city is asleep
Wait for the ghost of the final train
Wash out the salt and the city stain
Hold on to ink on a faded page
Locked in a cold and a metal cage
Blue light flashing on a rusted rail
The promise of home is a broken trail
Step off the edge where the wind blows cold
Stories of gold that were never told
Wipe the counter and turn off the heat
Empty air on a dead end street
A postcard stuck to a concrete wall
Waiting for someone to give a call
Wait for the ghost of the final train
Wash out the salt and the city stain
Hold on to ink on a faded page
Locked in a cold and a metal cage
One last ride.
Midnight Platform.
Gone.
