[INTRO — instrumental, stomping upright bass, tense drums] [VERSE 1 — agitated, heaving] Eleven P.M., I badge in, the building exhales (exhales) Every office empty like a mouth that lost its tale My flashlight does the talking on the rounds at one Second floor, the copy room, the ficus getting sun From a lamp I turn on — yeah, I keep a plant alive That's between me and the ficus, it's the reason I survive The third floor — or the third floor survives me Either way we get each other through the night, see I narrate like a sportscaster: and here comes floor four The elevator wins again, undefeated, what a bore The vending machine and me, we got a understanding I don't shake it when it's hungry, it don't judge me when I'm standing There at three A.M. debating chips like it's a life choice Talking to the quiet in my best game-show-host voice [HOOK — cracked, half-yelled] Night rounds, night rounds Keep the building breathing, keep the lights on in this town Night rounds, night rounds Somebody's gotta hold the quiet down (night rounds) [VERSE 2 — whisper cracking up to yell] People think the job is nothing — baby, nothing's heavy Try carrying six hours of it, it don't come steady It comes in rolls of hum and buzz and your own name Said out loud in a stairwell just to hear it sound the same As it did when you had company — I'm not complaining I chose the quiet — quiet keeps the rent from raining And there's beauty if you look: the city from the roof A truck backing up at dawn like it's laying down a proof That the world restarts itself and doesn't need applause Just a man with a flashlight and his little human laws Check the doors, feed the quiet, keep the plant alive Sign the log, write all clear — that's how we both survive [BRIDGE — drums pull back, bass only, close voice] Five-forty — first bus sighs at the corner The sky goes from black to about to be I badge out into morning like a foreigner Who knows the country's secret — it was never empty I was here [VERSE 3 — breath steadier, warm] Day guy comes at six, we do the handoff dance Two grunts and a nod, the ancient male romance Of the shift change — all clear, brother, all yours He don't know about the ficus, don't know about the doors Don't need to — that's the job, the things you'll never see The building standing calm because of folks like me I drive home with the sunrise in my mirror like a medal Sleep till noon, dream of nothing, then I badge back in and settle In — eleven P.M., the building exhales And I'm there to catch its breath when the quiet lands [OUTRO — sax bursts soften and fade] (night rounds... night rounds...) All clear I was here
