At the End of the Line

I'm long gone honey babe, far away from my home
Went out to find myself, just found myself alone
Late night trains don't run the way they're supposed to
It's been months since I've been near anyone I was close to
At the end of the line wildflowers grow on the tracks
I'd return to the cities of my youth
if I knew the youth would come back

I was holed up in my hotel room
when I got a telephone call
The girl I saw in the lobby, girl I didn't know at all
It was her last night in the city
and her friends left her behind
She had some thoughts and a bottle of wine
Could she come up and talk a while
But lord, I know what talking leads to

And at the end of the line, I only had one thought
Whenever something is free, usually then, you're not

F-Train to Coney Island, the corridor to my room
Yellow wine in summer, the subway's sweet perfume
It's in the air around my clothes, lord,
it's in the bookstore you lived above
Sometimes a city is one too many, and a thousand ain't enough

And at the end of the line I'm reading to myself
Of all the spring afternoons in bars
Could it have been anyone else?