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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “Midnight Exit”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
Shift ends; grease clings like a story. Vending-light halos the weary. I glance once at the rostered box that kept me. Turn—the lane unbolts like a verb. In the mirror, the old me shrinks to coin size. I drive till the forecourt’s hum falls silent, keys cooling in my palm.
Alternative version
Shift ends; pocket hope, shotgun ride. Grease won’t wash, but the page is clean. One last look at what I survived— Turn— and go: open lane, new gear, fear in the mirror shrinking small.
Lyrics
(Oh—) Late shift ends, doors swing wide, Pocket hope, shotgun ride. Vending lights and tired smiles, We outrun clock hands for a while. Uniform off, still taste the day, Grease on hands that won’t wash away. But the night feels like a clean page, And I’m writing out of that cage. One last look at what I survived, Then I’m gone like I never lied. If the past wants to call me back, Let it talk — I won’t unpack. Turn— Turn and burn, Let the city watch me learn. Turn and burn, I’m the match and I’m the word. Midnight exit, open lane, I’m not asking for a name. (Whoa-oh-oh) I’m shifting gears, (Whoa-oh-oh) I’m leaving fear. Street sweeper sparks in the gutter lane, Laughing at the mess like “okay.” If my luck is thin, so what? I’ve got grit and I’ve got guts. Rearview shows a smaller me, Hands still shaking, trying to breathe. But the road keeps whispering “go”, And I finally let it know. One last look at what I survived, Then I’m gone like I never lied. If the past wants to call me back, Let it talk — I won’t unpack. Now— Turn and burn…
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