He brings the salt to the city square
Cold morning mist in the Roman air
Rough woolen coat and a heavy net
The kind of dark that you don't forget
Sinking deep in the cobblestone tide
Nowhere left for a sailor to hide
Wait for the light on the cafe door
Far from the spray of the northern shore
He leans his back on a limestone wall
Watching the gray of the morning fall
Silver scales in a wooden bin
Where the rush of the city begins
Sinking deep in the cobblestone tide
Nowhere left for a sailor to hide
Wait for the light on the cafe door
Far from the spray of the northern shore
The smell of coffee and roasting bean
The strangest harbor he's ever seen
He keeps his eyes on the steady ground
While the sleeping alleys wake to sound
Sinking deep in the cobblestone tide
Nowhere left for a sailor to hide
Wait for the light on the cafe door
Far from the spray of the northern shore
Iron shutters start to rattle high
Under a pale and a winter sky
He counts the hours by the ticking clock
Far from the swell of a granite rock
Black ink water in a stone basin
Old ghost memories he's always chasing
Tied to a pier made of brick and lime
Trading the wind for a different time
The first espresso hits the copper pot
The morning air is a sudden knot
He packs his gear as the crowds roll in
Back to the place where the waves begin
Sinking deep in the cobblestone tide
Nowhere left for a sailor to hide
Wait for the light on the cafe door
Far from the spray of the northern shore
Far from the shore
Far from the shore
The tide rolls in
