She wears a faded apron string
A heavy copper bell will ring
The coffee burns a bitter black
She walks the wooden pier and back
Oh the bay fog pulls her low
Where the salted currents flow
Cold wind biting through the bone
Walking through the mist alone
The diner lights are dim and pale
A rusted anchor, weathered sail
She counts the coins in plastic trays
Lost inside the silver haze
Oh the bay fog pulls her low
Where the salted currents flow
Cold wind biting through the bone
Walking through the mist alone
The oily water laps the stone
A sudden whistle, sharp and lone
She watches ships go drifting by
Underneath a heavy sky
Oh the bay fog pulls her low
Where the salted currents flow
Cold wind biting through the bone
Walking through the mist alone
Salty air and iron rust
Turning every golden trust
Cold Atlantic, frozen deep
Promises she meant to keep
She leaves the counter and the tea
To face the churning graying sea
The pier is shaking in the gale
A ghost inside a cotton veil
Oh the bay fog pulls her low
Where the salted currents flow
Cold wind biting through the bone
Walking through the mist alone
Drifting in the gray
Drifting far away
