Jeff Buckley's Greece was playing loud as hell in the back of an old dive bar. So I step outside and light a cigarette, taking the fumes of the passing cars. Loud angry drunks and a few crest punks fill every crevice of St. Mark's. Some things have changed since back then, but the streets are still so hard. In the lonely hours of midnight, when New York City's lying wide awake under the glow of a streetlight. I feel the rumble that the concrete makes, I might hail a cab down. Right through the hall into the interstate, and my soul will reignite in the lonely hours of midnight. Two lovers falling in each other's arms, stumbling on down the high line. Up on the bridge there's a broken heart, screaming to his valentine. Two sunken eyes at the corner shop, trying to get a Lucy for a dime. The needle drops and the vinyl turns, I'm gonna burn this one right. The lonely hours of midnight, when New York City's lying wide awake under the glow of a streetlight. I feel the rumble that the concrete makes, I might hail a cab down. Right through the hall into the interstate, and my soul will reignite in the lonely hours of midnight. Calling out for something, calling out for something true. Calling out for something, calling out for something true. Calling out for something, calling out for something true. The lonely hours of midnight, when New York City's lying wide awake under the glow of a streetlight. I feel the rumble that the concrete makes in the lonely hours of midnight. When New York City's lying wide awake under the glow of a streetlight. I feel the rumble that the concrete makes, I might hail a cab down. Right through the hall into the interstate, and my soul will reignite in the lonely hours of midnight. And my soul will reignite in the lonely hours of midnight. Thank you for watching!