the streetlights are diamonds, the sidewalk a bed of boot heels and garbage and cigarettes and only the hopeless and lonesome are left to pin up the night and go home
and i don’t believe that a fortune is told by the turning of cards, by the swinging of stones but still i’m here hoping for what i can’t hold for some kind of sign from above
so turn out the lights, let the diamonds be damned a reverie is sweeter in the dark and i don’t got nothing but two empty hands and this slow burning flame of a heart
and midnight comes rolling all bottles and bags they come to rest soft in the park and a beautiful woman, her voice made of glass stirs in a dream in the dark
and i don’t believe that the future is told by the weight of a word, but by the way it’s spoke and still i’m here holding your name in my throat and isn’t it sweet on my tongue
and the dawn glows, and it spreads like a spill in the shadows, someone whispers it will be alright
the streetlights are faded, the sidewalk a song of footsteps, and papers, and telephones and darling it’s raining, come take me back home it seems that i’ve seen quite enough
and i don’t know which way i’m bound to believe the story itself, or the space between but still i’m here wiping my eyes on my sleeve at the beautiful world waking up