They say music is the language of the soul.
Then I'd guess that mine speaks fluent rock and roll,
An old RCA transistor radio,
Was the first thing I ever bought with my own dough.
Stayin' up late, tuning in, those songs became my closest friends,
Introduced to me by all-night D.J.'s miles away.
Please come back, Captain Midnight, come on back.
There's a hole inside my soul the size of vinyl; grooved and black.
I long for all that used to be, come play an old request for me,
Of teenage love and drive-ins servin' burgers by the sack.
We miss you, Captain Midnight, please come back.
I remember driving Dad's old Chevrolet,
With the D.J. riding shotgun all the way.
Cruising Whitehall's strip most every Friday night,
As the radio played the soundtrack to my life.
They cut a place deep in our hearts, following the stars and record charts,
Connecting every song we loved to a special place in time.
Please come back, Captain Midnight, come on back.
Float across the River Styx in Dante's pale grey cadillac.
The air is full of pirate ghosts, n' there's an empty station off the coast.
With a 100 watt antennae and a reel-to-reel 4 track.
We miss you, Captain Midnight, please come back.
I can hear that old familiar voice in the fearless summer air,
He's sending this one out to all those lonely kids out there.
Please come back, Captain Midnight. Come on back.
Hop a train from any depot where you are and jump the track.
Because all the songs our D.J. plays come from a corporate data base.
If you showed up in the board room, they might give our airwaves back.
We miss you, Captain Midnight. Please come back.
