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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

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