The Weight of the Diner Coffee ( A New Kind of Standard )
Nigel John Farmer
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Lyrics
The hour was late, the clock upon the wall read 'A Quarter to Done'
Another night spent chasing the moon's pale gleam
My spirit, a lone cigarette, smokin' 'neath the neon sun
Was caught in the low tide of a half-forgotten dream
I stood at the counter, its surface all cracked and gritty white
Contemplating the truth of the lukewarm, yellow light
Oh, this is the feeling that they call "The Real Thing,"
The quintessential, quiet, complicated thing you feel
It's the only honest solace that a soul can bring
The weight of the last cup of coffee, bitter but real
It's not passion, it's not sorrow, it's A New Kind of Standard
Yet, tradition is what the purist and the record label guarded
The Counter Man sighs, wipes the crumbs off the floor
A promise of stories that he's told before
He offers a wisdom you can't pay money for
A quiet kind of grace, growing tired and old
I poured a small splash of the milk from a metal can
And remembered the nonsense from the last working man
And some folks chase the hits, with their guitars and their hype
They seek a shining moment to shake the circuit's stars
But I know the true poetry, when the hour is ripe
And you've nothing left to ask for, and you're wanting nothing more...
Than the clink of ice in a water glass, just keeping you sane
It's A New Kind of Standard...
Just A New Kind of Standard...
And I really should have asked for a refill
That second cup of Joe...