Goodnight America
I'm standing at a traffic light somewhere in west L.A.
Waiting for the sign to change then I'll be on my way
The noise, the heat, the crush of cars just robs me of my nerve
Then someone yells and blasts their horn and pins me to the curb
I'm a stranger here, no one you would know
My ship has not come in, but I keep hoping though
And I keep looking past the sun that sets above
Saying to myself goodnight America
And I am driving into Houston on a rain-slicked Texas road
Land so flat and sky so dark I say a prayer to float
Should all at once the San Jacinto surge beyond its banks
Like Noah reaching higher ground I'd offer up my thanks
'Cause I'm a stranger here, no one you would know
I'm just passing through, I am therefore I go
The moon rose in the east, but now it's right above
As I say aloud goodnight America
Midnight, it's hard to see the stars
Out on a highway near Atlanta full of strip malls & used cars
First light, just roll your window down and smell
The salty air perfume of Charleston town
Well I'm looking with a pilgrim's eyes upon some promised land
I'm dreaming with my heart outstretched as if it were my hand
And I'll hit the Cross Bronx just in time to beat the rush hour lock
But I got no clue what time it is from this world's busted clock
Yeah I'm a stranger here, no one you would know
I'm from somewhere else, isn't everybody though
I don't know where I'll be when the sun comes up
But till then sweet dreams, goodnight America.
Between Here And Gone
Tonight, the moon came up, it was nearly full.
Way down here on earth, I could feel its pull.
The weight of gravity or just the lure of light,
Made me want to leave my only home tonight.
Yeah I'm just wondering how we know where we belong.
Is it in a photograph, or a dashboard poet's song?
Will I have missed my chance to right some ancient wrong,
Should I find myself between here and gone?
Now I could grab my keys and peel out in my truck,
With every saint on board bringing me their luck.
I could drive too fast, like a midnight thief,
As if there was a way to outrun the grief.
Yeah I'm just wondering how we know where we belong.
In a song that's left behind in a dream I couldn't wake from.
Could I have felt the brush of a soul that's passing on,
Somewhere in between here and gone?
Up above me, wayward angels, a blur of wings and grace.
One for courage, one for safety, one for just in case.
I thought a light went out, but now the candle shines.
I thought my tears wouldn't stop, then I dried my eyes.
And after all of this, the truth that holds me here,
Is that this emptiness is something not to fear.
Yeah, I'll keep wondering how we know where we belong,
After all the journeys made, and the journeys yet to come.
When I feel like giving up instead of going on,
Somewhere in between.
Yeah, I'm just wondering how we know where we belong.
Is it in the arc of the moon, leaving shadows on the lawn?
In the path of fireflies and a single bird at dawn,
Singing in between here and gone.
Grand Central Station
Got my work clothes on full of sweat and dirt.
All this holy dust upon my face and' shirt.
Heading uptown now, just as the shifts are changing,
To Grand Central Station.
Got my lunch box, got my hard hat in my hand.
I ain't no hero, mister, just a working man.
And all these voices keep on asking me to take them,
To Grand Central Station.
Grand Central Station.
I want to stand beneath the clock just one more time.
Want to wait upon the platform for the Hudson Line.
I guess you're never really all alone, or too far from the pull of home,
And the stars upon that painted dome still shine.
I paid my way out on 42nd Street.
I lit a cigarette and stared down at my feet.
And imagined all the ones that ever stood here waiting,
At Grand Central Station.
Grand Central Station.
Now Hercules is staring down at me.
Next to him's Minerva and Mercury.
I nod to them and start my crawl, flyers covering every wall:
Faces of the missing are all I see.
Tomorrow, I'll be back there, working on the pile.
Going in, coming out, single file.
Before my job is done, there's one more trip I'm making,
To Grand Central Station.
Grand Central Station.
Grand Central Station.
Grand Central Station.
(Mary Chapin Carpenter)
