Black water hides the city stone
A heavy mist is drifting lone
The canal wind is cutting cold
A winter story left untold
A vintage frame in silver light
A lonely spark against the night
One yellow lamp on a frozen bridge
A golden line on a winter ridge
The chain is rusted thin and red
Where old forgotten spirits tread
The leather seat is cracked and grey
Waiting for a break of day
The cobblestones are slick and wet
A scene the morning won't forget
The spoke-wheels spin a quiet song
Where the midnight currents throng
A vintage frame in silver light
A lonely spark against the night
One yellow lamp on a frozen bridge
A golden line on a winter ridge
Steel bars hold the river tight
Cutting through the velvet white
No one comes to claim the ride
Where the ghost and river glide
The copper bell is frozen still
A quiet breath, a sudden chill
The paint is peeling off the bar
Underneath a distant star
A vintage frame in silver light
A lonely spark against the night
One yellow lamp on a frozen bridge
A golden line on a winter ridge
Iron and fog.
Just iron and fog.
Lamps in the grey.
Fade out to day.
