It's a snowy night, the cops shut down the freeway
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big men in plows are out carving up the streets
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Below them, jammed on a subway,
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I'm with two hundred over-dressed strangers
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brushing snow off coats and shoulders
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kicking snow off dress shoe feet
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chorus:
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You live six miles down this trolley car's trail
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up above the red line, where the street musicians wail
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Where Baby, we used to chase down coffee
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on the sidewalk take in tunes
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We'd drink in the waning hours
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till we polished off the moon
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Who knew the moon would fail
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above the trolley car trail
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"Park Street, next station"
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says a voice with an accent I've heard
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and I see shoppers on the platform
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where green and red lines diverge
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I fight my way through the packages and the bows
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to a pay phone, the operator knows
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she says to me, "Your nervousness shows"
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I say, "'Nervous' is too kind a word"
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bridge:
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I think snowfall should be measured
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By how much it takes a city by surprise
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By how far back old timers go to remember
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the last time a blizzard stung their eyes
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Last time I rode a subway
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you had summer in your eyes
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you did
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Your phone rings, but it only brings your voice
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on a message machine, "I'm not here, the tape is clear"
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me, I'm off the hook it seems
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"I called," I say, "to say `hello'
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to coax you out where the snowmen grow
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but you're not home, and hey, I gotta go,
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it was good to hear your voice."
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-----------------
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Trolley Car
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| Ellis Paul |
