Now you could count the minutes
But there's no doubting my ticker cos you know very well that every pound and ounce is in it
The seconds, the minutes, the hours of power
I won't try to quantify what it means to me cos the amounts infinite
A stationary observer at the train station
I look out without them looking into me yeah the shades are tinted
But you see through the cool facade it's translucent
And since school you've been observing too at this amazing image
15 minutes, yeah I'll probably call
With pain to say, the trains delayed
Which translates to I'm sorry I'll be late again
Seeming as if I'll never change my ways, but you choose to stay
Apart from my voice on the cell, you're impatiently waiting on the platform sitting all by yourself
I guess I'll generate a generic discussion to placate you
And try to make you forget that you're late too

Ten minutes, time moves slow don't it? If only I could fast forward
Or even pause the seconds and teleport my location to be with you in this moment
You know that I wouldn't hesitate and that's me talking not the showman
Now I'm getting philosophical, these conversations to me are equally imperative and categorical
Cause maybe in a strange way the train you wait for is both tangible and metaphorical, uh

Five minutes, please stay on the line
Even though I've got absolutely nothing to say on my mind
Background noise is just fine
As long as I know that you'll still be with me on this ride
It's about time, the trains arrived, typical me I'll hop on and take the window seat
So selfishly, I know my dreams to emcee, can so swiftly, just turn it all against me
But see, you know that I'd throw it all away in a heartbeat
If I couldn't have you by my side when I've got the car keys
Road trips and adventures and not to mention the sense of knowing
That someone else is caring for you senseless
So as the train slows, the line fades into the Background
The track sounds like we're moving on to the next song
The carriage doors slide open and I look over
To see the reason I'm always believing it when you step on

Guess you put the work in, so you're tryna work out why it didn't work out
Feeling cold, but you're burnt out, concerned how
The two sides that weren't meant to be one, that you've learnt now
On an empty carriage you scribe, that no repent is carried inside
No resent has married with pride, and no attempts to parry the tide