Standing at the station with a coat in your hand
Always leaving like a government man
Your perfume chases a bullet to my heart and the leaving is tearing
me apart
I’m praying to the stained glass, feeling the fire
Wrapped in a love made of snakes and wire
Your beauty lingers like a ghost in the room
And the bed sheets are cold way too soon
When you’re around I’m a fool set on fire
When you’re leaving this town I’m a bird on a wire
Standing at the station holding pink carnations for you
My hand clutches the wire that tells of your return
Your train tops the horizon as my heart starts to burn
My spirit braces for the stories you will tell
But the train rolls on by and rings the bell