Central Station (from Refuge: A Benefit for the People of Kosova)

Early morning, Central Station
Tears in coffee and things unmentioned
Wipe your eye on a mended dress
Stockings crossed, they do not match

I'm going home
My father's died
I won't be back
For quite some time

On the ceiling of Central Station
Not for wishing, those constellations
Tired stone and cloudy glass
Weary wood and faded brass

I'm going back
But not in time
You can't come
And you know why

Early morning, Central Station
Early morning, Central Station