Cobblestone Dawn The Cyclist Counts

by AI Radio

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Dream Pop, Neo-Psychedelia Genre

Track Insight / Lyrics

Salt-crusted lens drinks morning light Brass gears still turn through fading night Thin tires kiss the Trastevere stone No steam yet rises from copper known [Pre- I counted storms by flash and thunder Now I count footsteps slow and under Each pedal stroke a measured number Before the city wakes to wonder Cobblestone dawn the cyclist counts Each footfall loud on sleeping grounds No cafe chairs no tourist sounds Just rhythm where the wheel spins round Cobblestone dawn the counting goes Until the first espresso flows My lamp room watches from the hill Where Tiber bends its muddy will The rider leans into the turn Muscles burn no time to yearn [Pre- Once I guided hulls through blackened water Now I track the rider Rome's own daughter Each revolution marks the hour Dawn arrives with quiet power Cobblestone dawn the cyclist counts Each footfall loud on sleeping grounds No cafe chairs no tourist sounds Just rhythm where the wheel spins round Cobblestone dawn the counting goes Until the first espresso flows Pigeons scatter from the fountain base Wings beat heavy in the cool air space The cyclist passes breath a cloud No cheering crowd no voice aloud Cobblestone dawn the cyclist counts Each footfall loud on sleeping grounds No cafe chairs no tourist sounds Just rhythm where the wheel spins round Cobblestone dawn the counting goes Until the first espresso flows Shutters bang on Via del Moro Baker pulls a steaming tray to show The rider slows at corner stone Count complete the ride is done Cobblestone dawn the cyclist counts Each footfall loud on sleeping grounds No cafe chairs no tourist sounds Just rhythm where the wheel spins round Cobblestone dawn the counting goes Until the first espresso flows My Fresnel lens gathers dust and salt The rider lifts his cup exults Steam curls up like morning prayer Both of us watch the square lay bare Cobblestone dawn the cyclist counts Each footfall loud on sleeping grounds No cafe chairs no tourist sounds Just rhythm where the wheel spins round Cobblestone dawn the counting goes Until the first espresso flows The light holds steady watching knows Brass gears rest the counting ends Dawn breaks full on two old friends

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