I saw him through a dusty pane
Above the rush of city rain
He buffs a heel with steady hand
The quietest spot in all the land
The clock ticks slow against the wall
The morning light begins to fall
He doesn't look up at the street
Where heavy boots and asphalt meet
Golden leather in the sun
Wait for the day to be begun
Sanding the grain until it glows
That is the way the morning goes
I clicked a shot of copper hue
A weathered skin and spirit true
He works a seam with silver thread
While all the waking world is red
The clock ticks slow against the wall
The morning light begins to fall
He doesn't look up at the street
Where heavy boots and asphalt meet
Golden leather in the sun
Wait for the day to be begun
Sanding the grain until it glows
That is the way the morning goes
The scent of oil and aged pine
A narrow room, a straight white line
He rubs the wax in circles slow
Watching the amber brightness grow
Golden leather in the sun
Wait for the day to be begun
Sanding the grain until it glows
That is the way the morning goes
I board the bus and leave the view
Of everything he chooses to do
He keeps the shine on every sole
A tiny piece of perfect control
Golden leather in the sun
Wait for the day to be begun
Sanding the grain until it glows
That is the way the morning goes
Sanding the grain until it glows.
Golden leather.
Golden light.
