The air is cold like winter loam
I call this empty square my home
I watch the ivy climb the wall
Waiting for the morning call
Oh the strings pull a deep red line
Like a creeping woody vine
Deep in the earth the rhythm grows
Where the Roman river flows
I see the moss in every crack
A velvet green that wanders back
My bow is worn like old cedar bark
Slicing through the heavy dark
Oh the strings pull a deep red line
Like a creeping woody vine
Deep in the earth the rhythm grows
Where the Roman river flows
The cafes shut their heavy doors
I pace these grey and ancient floors
Like Hedera helix on the stone
I play this city all alone
Patience is a seed in the clay
Holding on until the day
Wait for the sun to hit the street
Feel the heavy drum of the beat
The first espresso steam will rise
A golden light hits tired eyes
My fingers ache with a steady strain
Like a root that drinks the rain
Oh the strings pull a deep red line
Like a creeping woody vine
Deep in the earth the rhythm grows
Where the Roman river flows
A silver coin hits the wooden case
I see the smile on a stranger's face
The soil is rich and the music is loud
Lifting me up above the crowd
Oh the strings pull a deep red line
Like a creeping woody vine
Deep in the earth the rhythm grows
Where the Roman river flows
Just a seed in the Roman stone.
Roots go deep.
Roots go deep.
