Red brick road in the autumn chill
Golden leaves on a window sill
Old ink smell and a heavy door
Paws are pacing on a wooden floor
He is the king of the brick sidewalk view
Watching the crowds as the morning turns blue
Amber eyes locking on the wind and the rain
Waiting for someone to call out his name
I hold my lens to the freezing glass
Counting the strangers who happen to pass
Wool coats flashing in a rush to the train
Copper pennies in a gutter of rain
He is the king of the brick sidewalk view
Watching the crowds as the morning turns blue
Amber eyes locking on the wind and the rain
Waiting for someone to call out his name
Leather boots clicking on the historic street
Salty air where the harbor and alley meet
He takes a leap to a high stone ledge
Living his life on a sharp granite edge
He is the king of the brick sidewalk view
Watching the crowds as the morning turns blue
Amber eyes locking on the wind and the rain
Waiting for someone to call out his name
My bus ticket is a scrap in my hand
A stranger alone in a cold harbor land
But he looks at me with a steady gaze
Through the orange fog and the November haze
I click the shutter and I freeze the frame
A bookstore ghost with a secret name
He doesn't move as the city goes by
Under a heavy and iron-grey sky
He is the king of the brick sidewalk view
Watching the crowds as the morning turns blue
Amber eyes locking on the wind and the rain
Waiting for someone to call out his name
Brick sidewalk king
Just a flash of a wing
He stays where he belongs
The king of the songs
