Lock in.
I'm locked out.
I can't find the keys.
I don't even know if this is the right door.
It's dreamlike time, a lullaby,
a gentle glow,
a wink, a sigh.
The city's rhythm starts to slow.
I'm chasing time, but where'd it go?
The last bus waits, a quiet hand,
a fleeting ride where dreams suspend.
Oh, the last bus home is calling me.
Roll us off through the city's melody.
I see to myself a world outside.
Through sleepy streets,
I'll take the ride.
The last bus home, the night's embrace,
a fleeing refuge, a moving space.
The driver nods his cap askew.
He's seen the night and he sees me too.
Neon signs flicker past the paint.
The whispers join.
The windows ring.
Each stops a story, each turn a clue.
A fleeting glimpse of lives in view.
The wheels they hum, but muted too.
I dance beneath a crescent moon.
Each corner turned,
the night unwinds.
A fleeting pause, then a leap behind.
Oh, the last bus home is calling me.
Roll us off through the city's melody.
I see to myself a world outside.
Through sleepy streets, I'll take the ride.
The last bus home, the night's embrace,
a fleeing refuge, a moving space.
The drawers I open, my journey's end.
The stars above, my constant friend.
The night exhales its quiet tone,
and I step off no longer alone.