On the Line

Strangers looking fine,

like nothing's on the line,

but deep, deep down inside

we'd all want to resign

if nothing's on the line,

we wouldn't last the night

if nothing's on the line.

I lost you, after Saigon,

I crossed you, like an ocean,

your commons so uncommonly aligned,

I'm waiting

but nothing's on the line,

nothing's on the line . . .

Locomotive shine,

now Whitman's only sign,

we'd like to see him live

but no one's on the line,

no one's on the line

and we won't last the night

if no one's on the line.

I lost you, after Saigon,

I crossed you, like an ocean,

your commons so uncommonly aligned,

I'm waiting

but nothing's on the line,

nothing's on the line . . .