I lay here on the cold wet stone.
A golden gear all on its own.
The drizzle hits my polished face.
A lonely ghost in this dark place.
Ticking slow in the midnight blue.
Waiting here for a hand that's true.
Spinning rounds while the city glows.
Where the winding silver river flows.
A black leather boot passes by.
Underneath a heavy purple sky.
I feel the shake of the subway line.
A frozen piece of a better time.
Ticking slow in the midnight blue.
Waiting here for a hand that's true.
Spinning rounds while the city glows.
Where the winding silver river flows.
I remember the warmth of a vest.
The steady beat of a human chest.
Now I count every drop of rain.
A golden circle of quiet pain.
Ticking slow in the midnight blue.
Waiting here for a hand that's true.
Spinning rounds while the city glows.
Where the winding silver river flows.
My spring is tight and my glass is cracked.
A heavy history I can't take back.
The oil is dry and the rust is deep.
While all the tired salarymen sleep.
A taxi splash hits the alley wall.
I watch the heavy raindrops fall.
I keep the rhythm of a dead man's beat.
Alone upon this concrete street.
Ticking slow in the midnight blue.
Waiting here for a hand that's true.
Spinning rounds while the city glows.
Where the winding silver river flows.
Just a tick and a turn of the gear.
Still I wait for the owner to appear. Silver river flows.
Ticking slow.
