Silver flashlight cuts the gray.
October wind blows the day.
Iron gates are locked and tight.
Watching for a single light.
I am rusting in the cold.
Watching all the stories fold.
Standing on the Boston street.
Where the brick and winter meet.
Leather boots on frozen stone.
Walking through the square alone.
Red leaves pile against the wall.
Waiting for the year to fall.
I am rusting in the cold.
Watching all the stories fold.
Standing on the Boston street.
Where the brick and winter meet.
Gold leaf peels from every door.
I don't recognize it anymore.
Brass keys jingle in my hand.
Sifting through the heavy sand.
Snap a photo of the rust.
Turning every hope to dust.
Felt piano hits a chord.
Something that I can't afford.
Heavy wool against my skin.
Letting all the autumn in.
Salty air from harbor piers.
Counting down the lonely years.
I am rusting in the cold.
Watching all the stories fold.
Standing on the Boston street.
Where the brick and winter meet.
Midnight coffee in a cup.
Looking for the sun to wake up.
Cobblestones begin to glow.
While the city starts to flow.
I am rusting in the cold.
Watching all the stories fold.
Standing on the Boston street.
Where the brick and winter meet.
Just a snapshot in the gray.
Copper thinning fast away.
Fading fast away.
