At the bus stop
Sings the last song of the night in a theatre where nobody stays for the last song
the numbers
- bpm
- 144
- key
- G minor
- energy
- 0.69
- dance
- 0.92
- valence
- 0.54
- vocal at
- 5.2s
- length
- 3:46
- language
- En
lyrics
You shook the rain from your sleeves by the stop on O’Connell Bridge A Red Line bus hissed in the dark, blue seatlight on the ridged Your fingers brushed my ticket, then both of us laughed too long And I stood there counting your breath like I’d done something wrong The driver checked his mirror, the doors folded shut with a sigh Your hand stayed on the pole while you looked right through my eye One step too close, then frozen, with your scarf half-tied And the whole of Dublin went still in the glass beside At the bus stop At the bus stop At the bus stop At the bus stop You turned my name to more There was a chip bag crinkling under the shelter’s bent chrome seat A schoolboy dropped his umbrella, and the lane smelled wet and sweet You said, “I’ll text you when I’m home,” but your voice went soft and thin Like you knew that tiny stop had just split the world we’re in The number above the door flashed amber, then changed again You laughed at nothing, nervous, like you’d stepped outside of friends I saw it in the pause between your palm and my coat That bus stop took the shape of a door, and we both stood at the throat At the bus stop At the bus stop At the bus stop At the bus stop You turned my name to more And when the engine rolled away, I kept your warmth in my sleeve Your look stayed on the pavement where the rain began to leave No grand confession, just your thumb on my wrist in the chill Then the next bus came, and I knew what I had to feel At the bus stop At the bus stop At the bus stop At the bus stop You turned my name to more