I feel the weight of heavy jeans
The roughest cloth I've ever seen
He sits right here and holds his breath
A quiet kind of sudden death
He is waiting for the beat to drop
Where the city noise and traffic stop
Blue denim resting on my grain
Waiting for the music to erase the pain
His boots are caked in iron grit
The way he leans is quite a hit
He smells like oil and burnt out wire
A cold man dreaming of a fire
He is waiting for the beat to drop
Where the city noise and traffic stop
Blue denim resting on my grain
Waiting for the music to erase the pain
The basement air is thick and gold
A story that is never told
He taps a rhythm on his knee
The only one who sees the key
He is waiting for the beat to drop
Where the city noise and traffic stop
Blue denim resting on my grain
Waiting for the music to erase the pain
I hold his spine while horns ignite
A lonely worker in the light
He forgets the torch and welding mask
The only thing he dared to ask
The sax is low and tasting sweet
The rhythm hits the concrete street
He closes eyes and lets it go
A steady and a heavy flow
The set is done the lights go dim
The room is empty just for him
He stands up slow and leaves a trace
A ghost inside this velvet space
He is waiting for the beat to drop
Where the city noise and traffic stop
Blue denim resting on my grain
Waiting for the music to erase the pain
Just a bench in a basement room.
Heavy denim.
Warm gold.
Gone now.
