I sit upon the wooden shelf
A lonely mirror to myself
He brings the oil and silver thread
While morning light begins to spread
Tick tock the copper heart will beat
The kitchen air is smelling sweet
One golden gear to turn the wheel
The kind of magic I can feel
He wipes the glass with steady hand
The smallest spark within the sand
The kettle hums a low refrain
A rhythmic beat like summer rain
Tick tock the copper heart will beat
The kitchen air is smelling sweet
One golden gear to turn the wheel
The kind of magic I can feel
The steam is rising white and thick
The seconds move with every click
He winds the spring with careful grace
A soft reflection on my face
Tick tock the copper heart will beat
The kitchen air is smelling sweet
One golden gear to turn the wheel
The kind of magic I can feel
The tea is poured in ceramic white
The dim room fills with amber light
He hums a hymn from long ago
While heavy shadows start to flow
Open the window to the blue
The road is calling something new
Leave the workbench and the oil stain
Drive through the valley and the plain
I see the suitcase by the door
He doesn't need the shop no more
A final polish on my frame
The wind is calling out his name
Tick tock the copper heart will beat
The kitchen air is smelling sweet
One golden gear to turn the wheel
The kind of magic I can feel
Just a turn of the key.
Set the copper heart free.
Brass and steam.
Brass and steam.
