The Lonesome Meter Man

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Teknobabbel

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In the sea of cars, he stands alone
With his ticket book, he's in the zone
Marking tires, patrolling the streets
Making sure that nobody cheats
But beyond the uniform, there's a tale untold,
Of a man who walks the line, in the cold
He walks alone, the streets are his fate,
A figure of dread, the target of hate
Recording your plate, with a ticket in his hand,
The lonesome meter man
Face is stern, his heart encased in stone
Seen as a thief, in a harshly cast role
Bringing pain with each ticket he meets,
In the eyes of the crowd, a heartless beast
Fast
He walks alone, the streets are his fate,
A figure of dread, the target of hate
Recording your plate, with a ticket in his hand,
The lonesome meter man
(Oh-hey!)
To most people, a specter of gloom,
An omen of fines, that only brings doom
Unseen to them, when he walks his rounds,
He serves a mission, a purpose profound
With his mere presence, spaces are freed,
So for another, a chance to meet their need
Each ticket, a small part in a larger scheme,
A silent contribution to the city's dream
He walks alone, the streets are his fate,
A figure of dread, the target of hate
Recording your plate, with a ticket in his hand,
The lonesome meter man
(Hey-heeey)
The echo of footsteps, the lonely meter man,
Misunderstood, bearing the weight of disdain
Yet, if you see him, he'll give you a nod
He might be lonely, but in the streets he's God
He walks alone, the streets are his fate,
A figure of dread, the target of hate
Recording your plate, with a ticket in his hand,
The lonesome meter man
So when you pass by him, take a moment to see,
The man behind the ticket, setting spaces free
For in the heart of the city, he stands alone,
The lonesome meter man, in a league of his own
(Yeah) The lonesome meter man

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