Old iron can on a wooden shelf
Keeping its secrets all to itself
The attic window catches the glare
Warm morning yellow fills up the air
Counting the footsteps passing the pane
Waiting for sunshine to wash out the rain
Rusty metal gold in a square of light
Holding the morning until it is night
A chipped blue handle a dent in the side
Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide
Looking at sneakers that walk on the street
Measuring time by the rhythm of feet
He watches the bus with the faded red line
Tracing the hours one second at a time
A silver camera a lens in a hand
Capturing moments he didn't quite plan
Counting the footsteps passing the pane
Waiting for sunshine to wash out the rain
Rusty metal gold in a square of light
Holding the morning until it is night
The water is gone but the spirit is here
The vision is sharp and the focus is clear
No more old garden no more heavy clay
Just a small window and a bright summer day
He snaps a quick photo of rust and of glass
Watching the ghosts of the neighborhood pass
A little bit lonely a little bit proud
Standing so still while the city gets loud
Counting the footsteps passing the pane
Waiting for sunshine to wash out the rain
Rusty metal gold in a square of light
Holding the morning until it is night
Rusty metal gold
One, two, three, four
Just a square of light
