Intro [The sound of a heavy iron radiator banging in code. A slow, lethargic bassline enters, dragging its feet, followed by a single, dissonant jazz chord struck on a piano that hasn't been tuned since the war. A throat clears rough and close to the mic.] Verse 1 The soot is thick as velvet on the terminal roof And the ticket-agent’s staring like he wants some proof That you’re a living, breathing Christian with a place to arrive Instead of just a shadow that forgot it’s alive You got a suitcase full of coat-hangers and old racing forms And a memory of Kansas that no longer warms While the diesel smoke is heavy as a wet woolen vest Settling down like a curse upon the throat of the West. Pre-Chorus And the platform clock is missing its big brass hand Yeah, the numbers are all scattered like a bunch of contraband... And you feel the platform tremble as the air brake squeals. Chorus And you’re dancing with a ghost on a platform of rust Where the holy water’s turning into coal-car dust Yeah, the savior’s in the doghouse and the angles are wrong And the conductor’s been singing a collection-plate song While the muted trumpet's crying like a stray alley hound On the last train out of this forgotten town. Verse 2 Now, Shoeshine Shorty’s packing up his brushes and rags With a pocket full of tokens from the transit bags He’s looking at the schedule with a cataracts eye Watching all the late-night locals go rumbling by And the baggage-handlers sleep on a mountain of crates Full of cheap plastic dolls for the tri-state fairs Leaving nothing but grease-spots and a broken-down shoe For the midnight collection that is looking for you. Pre-Chorus And the platform clock is missing its big brass hand Yeah, the numbers are all scattered like a bunch of contraband... And you feel the platform tremble as the air brake squeals. Chorus And you’re dancing with a ghost on a platform of rust Where the holy water’s turning into coal-car dust Yeah, the savior’s in the doghouse and the angles are wrong And the conductor’s been singing a collection-plate song While the muted trumpet's crying like a stray alley hound On the last train out of this forgotten town. Bridge [The piano breaks into an off-kilter, frantic ragtime stride that feels like it’s about to fall off the tracks. The saxophone screeches low and breathy, mimicking the grinding of iron wheels against a sharp curve. The snare drum rattles like loose gravel.] Oh, the track-side evangelists are changing their tune With a bottle of Thunderbird under the moon And the ice in the water-cooler makes a death-watch tick As the rain on the skylight gets heavy and thick You’re hocking your gold tooth for a second-class pass Watching the world go by through a sheet of cracked glass... Verse 3 [The tempo plummets back to a dead crawl. Just a heavy, woody thud on the bass every few beats and the scrape of the drum brushes.] So adjust your suspenders, put your thumb in your belt Before the final few illusions begin to melt The high-ball signals are all turning to red Over the switching-yard where the engines are fed And you crawl into the corner of a wicker-seat car And you hide your face from the morning star. Pre-Chorus And the platform clock is missing its big brass hand Yeah, the numbers are all scattered like a bunch of contraband... And you feel the platform tremble as the air brake squeals. Chorus And you’re dancing with a ghost on a platform of rust Where the holy water’s turning into coal-car dust Yeah, the savior’s in the doghouse and the angles are wrong And the conductor’s been singing a collection-plate song While the muted trumpet's crying like a stray alley hound On the last train out of this forgotten town. Outro Yeah, on the last train out... With a cinder in your eye. And a glass full of rain. Just another blind passenger on a dead-end line. [A long, raspy cough. The piano keys are released with a loud sustain-pedal creak. The distant, lonely hiss of a steam valve releases, fading into a low tape hum before the track cuts abruptly with a mechanical pop.]
