T-Bone Burnett Presents: The Speaking Clock Revue

Third-class ticket in his pocket
Punching out the shadows underneath the sockets
Tweed coat turned up against the fog
Slow coaches rolling o'er the moor
Between the very memory
And approaches of war

Stale bread curling on a luncheon counter
Loose change lonely, not the right amount
Forgotten man of an indifferent nation
Waiting on a platform at a Lancashire station
Somebody's calling you again
The sky is falling
Jimmie's standing in the rain

Nobody wants to buy a counterfeited prairie lullaby in a colliery town
The hip flask and fumbled skein of some stage door Josephine is all he'll get now
Eyes going in and out of focus
Mild and bitter from tuberculosis

Forgotten man
Indifferent nation
Waiting on a platform at a Lancashire station
Somebody's calling you again
The sky is falling
Jimmie's standing in the rain

Her soft breath was gentle on his neck
If he could choose the time to die
Then he would come and go like this
Underneath a painted sky

She woke up and called him "Charlie" by mistake
And then in shame began to cry
Tarnished silver band peels off a phrase
And then warms their hands around the brazier

Forgotten man
Indifferent nation
Waiting on a platform at a Lancashire station
Somebody's calling you again
It's finally dawning
Jimmie's standing in the rain

Brilliantine glistening
Your soft plaintive whistling
And your wan wandering smile
Died down at The Hippodrome
Now you're walking off to jeers, the lonely sound of jingling spurs,
The "toodle-oos" and "Oh, my dears" down at "The Argyle"

Vile vaudevillians applaud sobriety
There's no place for a half-cut cowboy in polite society

Forgotten man
Indifferent nation
Waiting on a platform at a Lancashire station
Somebody's calling you again
It's finally dawning
Jimmie's standing in the rain
Somebody's calling you again
It's finally dawning
Jimmie's standing in the rain