Counting The Exit

(one...

two...)

Outside the night market grill,

the smoke is rising high Underneath the orange glow of the midnight

sky

Gas-station coffee on a concrete ledge

I am the plus-one

standing on the edge

Counting

the exits,

I became the point

(now I'm the point) Counting the exits,

I became

the point (one, two,

three)

Used to follow behind,

just a shadow in the queue

Now the room is turning,

and they look to you

Steam from the grills,

cup glowing in the dark

Counting every exit, ready for the spark

Counting the exits, I became the point

(now I'm the point) Counting the exits,

I became the point

(one, two, three)

I became the point (one...)