[Intro][The applause from the opener thins to a soft rail pulse. Twelve-string guitar and dry snare enter at walking pace; the room settles around a single female voice.]

[Verse 1][Female Vocal: Mara]
Six minutes past ten, I unlaced my shoes,
Washed a stranger's blood from my hospital blues.
The ward had gone quiet; strip lights still buzzed,
A paper cup trembled each time the lift moved.
I signed out my name with a pen running dry,
Left half my dinner untouched on the tray.
My coat held a ticket; I watched the lift rise,
I walked to the station still wearing the day.

[Pre-Chorus][Female Vocal: Mara]
My steps crossed the lobby and slipped through the rain,
One heel, then the other, then traffic again.
The doors breathed apart; cold air met my face.
For one night, no one called for my hands in that place.

[Chorus][Female Vocal: Mara]
After the last shift, carry me south,
Past bells still ringing when no one calls out.
After the last shift, let these hands rest;
Let the rails take the weight I still feel in my chest.
No siren can follow where the dark wheels run;
Let me sleep before morning and wake with the sun.

[Verse 2][Female Vocal: Mara]
A man on the platform kept folding a note,
A blue woollen cap pushed out of his coat.
Nico checked twice where the carriage was marked;
Josef tried every loose latch in the dark.
The woman beside me said, "Prague — is this right?"
I pointed through rain to the board by the door.
She read the green letters and smiled at the light;
The couplings drew tight; we were waiting no more.

[Chorus][Female Vocal: Mara]
After the last shift, carry me south,
Past bells still ringing when no one calls out.
After the last shift, let these hands rest;
Let the rails take the weight I still feel in my chest.
No siren can follow where the dark wheels run;
Let me sleep before morning and wake with the sun.

[Guitar Solo][A clean electric guitar follows the rhythm of passing signal lights, then bends into the three-note whistle motif. The audience remains quiet.]

[Verse 3][Female Vocal: Mara]
I thought of the woman in Bed Twenty-Three,
Who caught at my wrist as I turned for the door.
"Go home after your shift. The ward stays here."
She gave me a postcard: blue sunlight and shore.

[Bridge][Female Vocal: Mara]
I opened both hands. The ache stayed where it was.
No bell split the dark. No shoes crossed the aisle.
The postcard lay blue in the glass by my knee;
For the first time all week, I slept for a while.

[Break][Female Vocal: Mara, almost spoken]
No pager.
No chart.
No white corridor light.

[Final Chorus][Female Vocal: Mara with Soft Ensemble Harmony]
After the last shift, carry me south,
Past bells still ringing when no one calls out.
After the last shift, let these hands rest;
Let the rails take the weight I still feel in my chest.
No siren can follow where the dark wheels run;
Let me sleep before morning and wake with the sun.

[Outro][The drums drop away. Twelve-string guitar continues as the audience softly claps the train rhythm.]

[Female Vocal: Mara]
The towers grew smaller.
The carriage grew warm.
I folded the postcard
And loosened my arms.

[Audience Applause][Low and brief; muted guitar enters before it fully fades.]