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 . . .