Cold wet concrete on my face
Left behind in this dead place
Rain drops slide down a metal door
I don't move on this oily floor
Brass and glass in a silver shell
Counting beats in a city hell
Golden hands turning slow and true
Waiting here for a touch from you
Chrome cars scream on the upper street
I feel the rumble of heavy beat
Oil spills swirl in a purple haze
Counting down through the lonely days
Brass and glass in a silver shell
Counting beats in a city hell
Golden hands turning slow and true
Waiting here for a touch from you
Leather boots stop by my side
Nowhere left for a soul to hide
Salty air and a scent of pine
Someone reached for this heavy line
Brass and glass in a silver shell
Counting beats in a city hell
Golden hands turning slow and true
Waiting here for a touch from you
Rough warm fingers brush the rust
Wiping off all the urban dust
A steady thumb on a winding key
Suddenly I am feeling free
Springs unwind with a sudden snap
Breaking out of a frozen trap
Gear by gear we begin to climb
Stealing back every second of time
Pocket warmth and a steady beat
Walking far from the rainy street
Ticking loud in a velvet fold
Turning grey into shimmering gold
Brass and glass in a silver shell
Counting beats in a city hell
Golden hands turning slow and true
Now I'm home and I'm held by you
Tick tack tick tack
Hold the line now
Home at last
