Winter wraps the Herengracht in gray
The lighthouse keeper seeks the bridge today
His coat smells of salt and paraffin
The iron arches hold him in
The fog eats the canal's steel spine
His lantern trembles on the brine
No tower beam to cut the night
Just bridge arches holding light
He counts the barges by their engine cough
Each propeller chops the water off
A woman wraps her wool against the rail
Her breath writes clouds that rise and fail
The fog eats the canal's steel spine
His lantern trembles on the brine
No tower beam to cut the night
Just bridge arches holding light
She tends the buoys on Prinsengracht at dawn
He keeps the west lens polished optic drawn
Two keepers of the dark's wet geometry
Meeting where the bridges cross the sea
The fog eats the canal's steel spine
His lantern trembles on the brine
No tower beam to cut the night
Just bridge arches holding light
No words exchanged between the freezing stone
A shared cigarette a match flare shown
The flame lives long enough to catch her face
Then fog swallows up the brief embrace
The Rickenbacker growls low beneath the deck
Guitar shards cut through the vessel's wreck
Snare snaps tight like ice on rigging wire
Two silhouettes retire the choir
Morning peels the mist from brick and tide
They part without a promise spoken wide
The keeper climbs his tower she her boat
Each carries what the bridge stole and wrote
The fog eats the canal's steel spine
His lantern trembles on the brine
No tower beam to cut the night
Just bridge arches holding light
Just bridge arches holding light
Bass walks the cobblestones
Drums breathe in canal wind
