Wet wool coat on a plastic chair
Smell of old ink in the heavy air
He holds a folder with a shaking hand
A broken map of a forgotten land
Low ceiling lamps with a yellow glow
Reading the files where the secrets go
Coffee stains on a white cotton cuff
Tired eyes saying he has had enough
Deep in the archive blue
Searching for something true
Lost in the basement haze
Counting the lonely days
She sorts the pages in a steady line
Watching the clock while the seconds climb
He asks a question in a gravel tone
Two quiet strangers in a gray zip zone
Deep in the archive blue
Searching for something true
Lost in the basement haze
Counting the lonely days
Paper cuts on a thumb and a wrist
A hidden truth that the ledger missed
No more sirens or the city heat
Just the sound of a heart skipping beat
He leans back slow with a heavy sigh
Looking at her with a weary eye
She gives a smile and a nod of the head
Words of a kinship that stay mostly unsaid
The basement air is a velvet chill
Everything around them is sudden and still
He folds the paper and he stands up tall
A small victory in a concrete hall
Deep in the archive blue
Searching for something true
Lost in the basement haze
Counting the lonely days
Just a cold cup of brew.
Archive blue.
Archive blue.
