I smell like coffee and old frying oil
The midnight heat makes the asphalt boil
I lay my gloves on the wooden rail
A pair of skins that are worn and frail
Black leather skin in the Santa Fe heat
Listening close to the rhythm of the street
Hard as a stone and as cold as the rust
Waiting for wind to blow away the dust
The motel porch has a peeling grey paint
The buzzing light makes the evening feel faint
I watch the headlights go drifting on by
Under the weight of a heavy purple sky
My fingers ache from the grill and the heat
The midnight rush makes the victory sweet
I fold my hands and I close up my eyes
While the red desert tells a thousand lies
Black leather skin in the Santa Fe heat
Listening close to the rhythm of the street
Hard as a stone and as cold as the rust
Waiting for wind to blow away the dust
Steel guitar cries like a dog in the dark
A single ember and a dying spark
I keep my grip on the things I can hold
Before the night turns the summer air cold
I wipe the grease from my knuckles and palm
The desert air brings a heavy kind of calm
I pack my bag for the road back to town
Where the heavy sun always beats us down
Black leather skin in the Santa Fe heat
Listening close to the rhythm of the street
Hard as a stone and as cold as the rust
Waiting for wind to blow away the dust
Just leather and rust in the wind
Where the long road finally begins
