20Hz

I ride the morning train; eople come and go.

So many different faces as the city passes by.

I watch their tired eyes; journeys never made.

Broken dreams of leaving fill the streets with dust.

This is our final journey; it's the end of the line.

Constantly in transit, we just want to go home.

The rain that falls for weeks, painting pictures on the streets,

Twisted stars beneath my feet, I cruise the crowd.

I could be one of them, going back and forth,

Between familiar places, as my blood turns cold.

I watch with gypsy eyes: secrets never told.

Stolen years of yearning turn their tears to dust.

This is our final journey; it's the end of the line.

Constantly in transit, we just want to go home.

The rain that falls for weeks, painting pictures on the streets,

Twisted stars beneath my feet, I cruise the crowd.

The rain that falls for weeks, painting pictures on the streets,

Twisted stars beneath my feet, I cruise the crowd.

The rain that falls for weeks, painting pictures on the streets,

Twisted stars beneath my feet, I cruise the crowd.