Confessions in a Cab

Music & Lyrics: Rosanne Baker Thornley

A world just fell apart in apartment 502,
Everything they had, it’s all just fallen through,
The sting of no tomorrow – and the silence of defeat, 
She stumbles down the stairs to the safety of the street,

Her hand up in the air – with a moment to decide …
She steps off the curb and hails herself a ride…

There’s a story in every twenty dollar fare,
The pure and not so pretty, that spills out on the air,
The ticking of the meter and the troubles that we have,
Confessions come so easy, in the backseat of a cab.

Working late into the night – 50 floors up in the sky
Handcuffed by ambition and strangled by his tie,
A fire in his belly, and an aching pull to stay
The cost of this decision haunting every single day.

His hand up in the air – with a moment to decide …
He steps off the curb and hails himself a ride…

There’s a story in every twenty dollar fare,
The pure and not so pretty, that spills out on the air,
The ticking of the meter and the troubles that we have,
Confessions come so easy, in the backseat of a cab.

You can see it in their eyes, when the ride begins,
Lean into the window, whispering their sins,
Stories that tell, will cut you to the core,
With lives that disappear, when they pay, and close the door.

There’s a story in every twenty dollar fare,
The pure and not so pretty, that spills out on the air,
The ticking of the meter and the troubles that we have,
Confessions come so easy, in the backseat of a cab.