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The dial tone is humming
like a winter wind
I sat on the porch until
the streetlights thinned
I watched the midnight bus
roll on past the gate
Just another hour left to sit and wait
Nobody's coming
Oh, nobody's coming (mmmmm)
But the silence started talking
in a different tone
Like the realest thing I've ever known
The lock on the toolbox
is ready to break
And the table
is waiting for the shape we make
Nobody's coming
That's the good news
Everything here is yours to make
So I crack the latch
and I lay the pine
One window at a time,
the lights will align
Not waiting for an answer
on a rusted wire
We are building the hearth,
we are starting the fire
Nobody's coming
That's the good news
Everything here is yours to make
Everything here is yours to make
Everything here is yours to make