I was at the bus station, that terminal place
With the rest of the desperate, who've fallen from grace
Where eyes are averted, where other eyes stare
Man talking to somebody, nobody's there
And the terminal cases, they're impossibly young
And an old man is asking if I've seen his son
And the cops do a walk through, bottles slip into bags
And the beggar boy standing there, hanging in rags
Nothing much changes
Just the passing of time
And the faces that wait here
At the end of the line
Nothing much changes
Just the passing of time
And the faces that wait here
At the end of the line
And the eyes, they get raised to the blue of the screen
To the coming and going of men and machines
And I think, very likely, the departure of dreams
The arrival of the midnight hour
And the eyes, they get raised to the blue of the screen
To the coming and going of men and machines
And I think, very likely, the departure of dreams
The arrival of the midnight hour
There's a girl with her legs crossed, got an ankle tattoo
It's an ugly reminder in four shades of blue
And the bad boys, the rude boys, they're into the game
And they keep their eyes open for the halt and the lame
And nothing much changes
Just the passing of time
And the faces that wait here
At the end of the line
Nothing much changes
Just the passing of time
And the faces that wait here
At the end of the line