gone before dawn

Behind the feed store after hours

Underneath the rusting sign

Your keys are in my pocket now

Beside a cooling

paper cup (mmm)

I heard you packing down the hall

I heard the floorboards give away

And now the gas-station light is on

But the dial is cold today

Oh,

I'm waiting for a call that will not come

Standing on the gravel in the cold

While the engine hums a quiet song

Of the stories that we never told

Your half of the room is bare and clean

Like you were never really there

And that bitter coffee on the dash

Just stares into the empty air

Oh, I'm waiting for a call that will not come

Standing on the gravel in the cold

While the engine hums a quiet song Of the stories that we

never told

(never told...)