Meter clicking in the cold
City stories bought and sold
He sits still in booth number four
While the wind kicks in the door
Paint the gray with a broken light
Cutting holes in the dead of night
Rubies red and the sapphire blue
Making something old feel new
Hands are stained with a leaden gray
Working hard through the middle day
Coffee black in a plastic cup
Waiting for the sun to come up
Pavement wet like a polished stone
Driving circles all alone
He sees colors in a jagged line
Like a treasure in a dark design
Paint the gray with a broken light
Cutting holes in the dead of night
Rubies red and the sapphire blue
Making something old feel new
The street is just a long black vein
Washing clean in the midnight rain
He turns a shard to a holy glow
Nowhere left for the fare to go
I just watch from the driver's seat
While the city feels the heavy beat
He is quiet with a steady hand
Building castles in a desert sand
Paint the gray with a broken light
Cutting holes in the dead of night
Rubies red and the sapphire blue
Making something old feel new
Broken glass light. Broken glass light.
Just a broken light.
