I drove the loop for forty years
Through winter slush and frozen fears
I know the cracks in every street
Where concrete burns the summer heat
Counting steps to the basement door
Brass notes shaking the cellar floor
Faded ink on a postcard blue
I am driving this city for you
The meter clicks a steady beat
Old leather seats and salty sleet
A copper coin upon the mat
A tilted kind of driver's hat
Counting steps to the basement door
Brass notes shaking the cellar floor
Faded ink on a postcard blue
I am driving this city for you
A jazz club hidden underground
Where golden horns make a heavy sound
I saw your name in a cursive line
A vintage ghost from a better time
Counting steps to the basement door
Brass notes shaking the cellar floor
Faded ink on a postcard blue
I am driving this city for you
The wind howls loud on the lakefront pier
The road is long and the end is near
I turn the key and I dim the light
To chase a ghost through the Windy White
I park the cab by the iron gate
The clock is slow and the hour is late
I hold the card in my calloused hand
The only map to a promised land
Counting steps to the basement door
Brass notes shaking the cellar floor
Faded ink on a postcard blue
I am driving this city for you
Just a postcard blue.
One last ride for you. Shift into gear.
I am finally here.
