Brass wheels spin in a hidden room
Down where the heavy shadows loom
I scrub the grease from a silver spring
Wait for the morning bell to ring
Wind up the key and hold it tight
We own the city in the night
Under the square where the coffee flows
That is the place where the secret grows
You keep the rhythm with a steady hand
The finest clock in all the land
I hold the oil and I hold the light
Keeping the ticking gear in sight
Wind up the key and hold it tight
We own the city in the night
Under the square where the coffee flows
That is the place where the secret grows
Rome is a giant made of cold gray stone
Working the cellar all on our own
Sipping on espresso, black and bold
Before the early morning tales are told
The mainspring snaps with a sudden crack
There ain't no way to bring the timing back
Twist it once more till the metal screams
Tearing the fabric of our quiet schemes
The cafe owners start to lock their doors
While we are sweeping up the cellar floors
Copper and iron in a messy pile
Walking the distance for a crooked mile
Wind up the key and hold it tight
We own the city in the night
Under the square where the coffee flows
That is the place where the secret grows
One final turn and the chime hits true
The sky is turning to a pale light blue
Pack up the tools and we hide the gear
The waking world is finally drawing near
Wind up the key and hold it tight
We own the city in the night
Under the square where the coffee flows
That is the place where the secret grows
Tick-tock, baby.
Shut the door.
Keep it winding.
