| Got my work clothes on for love, sweat and dirt.
|
| All this Holy dust upon my face an' shirt.
|
| Headin' uptown now, just as the shifts are changin',
|
| To Grand Central Station.
|
| I got my lunch box, got my hard hat in my hand.
|
| I ain’t no hero, mister, just a workin' man.
|
| An' all these voices keep on askin' me to take them,
|
| To Grand Central Station.
|
| Grand Central Station.
|
| I wanna stand beneath the clock just one more time.
|
| Wanna wait on the platform for the Hudson line.
|
| I guess you’re never really all alone, or too far from the pull of home,
|
| An' the stars upon that painted dome still shine.
|
| I paid my way out on the 42nd Street.
|
| I lit a cigarette an' stared down at my feet.
|
| Imagined all the ones that ever stood here waitin',
|
| At Grand Central Station.
|
| Grand Central Station.
|
| And now Hercules is starin' down at me.
|
| Next to him’s Minerva an' Mercury.
|
| Well, I nod to them an' start my crawl, flyers coverin' every wall:
|
| Faces of the missing are all I see.
|
| Tomorrow, I’ll be back there, workin' on the pile.
|
| Going in, comin' out, single file.
|
| Before my job is done, there’s one more trip I’m makin',
|
| To Grand Central Station.
|
| Grand Central Station.
|
| Grand Central Station.
|
| Grand Central Station. |