I sit on a shelf of old pine
Where the rust and the ivy entwine
The workshop is quiet and cold
While the copper turns green and turns gold
I watch the wild clover grow tall
Against the cracked plastery wall
The weeds wrap around the back door
I don't track the minutes no more
Brass and briar, gold and green
The strangest sight I've ever seen
Spinning slow in a garden bed
Counting beats while the world is dead
A spider built webs on my glass
I watch all the lazy days pass
The grease on the workbench is dry
Under a heavy purple sky
Brass and briar, gold and green
The strangest sight I've ever seen
Spinning slow in a garden bed
Counting beats while the world is dead
The spring in my chest is a tight coil
Deep in the scent of the damp soil
I wait for a hand or a key
To set the old pendulum free
The sunflowers lean to the west
The blue jays are building a nest
I remember the click of a chain
Before the long seasons of rain
The workbench is covered in grit
Where the ghost of a candle is lit
I hold all the hours in my gear
While the end of the winter is near
Brass and briar, gold and green
The strangest sight I've ever seen
Spinning slow in a garden bed
Counting beats while the world is dead
Just keep it spinning. Tick tick, boom.
Brass and briar.
