Iron beams hold the winter sky
Where the heavy grey pigeons fly
I cast my line in the frozen deep
While the city begins to sleep
Wooden boots on a cobblestone
In the morning I stand alone
Woolen scarf wrapped around my throat
Waiting here in my heavy coat
Under the bridge in the velvet haze
Lost in the drift of the winter days
Silver water and a steady hand
Sinking slow in this salted land
Bicycle wheels on the distant street
Slowing down to a steady beat
White fog clings to the brick and lime
Counting out every second of time
Under the bridge in the velvet haze
Lost in the drift of the winter days
Silver water and a steady hand
Sinking slow in this salted land
Cold metal touch on a rusted rail
Watching the ghost of a distant sail
The current pulls at the nylon thread
Low humming songs in a weathered head
Copper coins in a plastic tin
Letting the quiet morning begin
A single ripple breaks through the white
Turning the morning into the light
Amber glow from a window pane
Washing away the scent of the rain
One last cast in the murky blue
Waiting for something honest and true
Under the bridge in the velvet haze
Lost in the drift of the winter days
Silver water and a steady hand
Sinking slow in this salted land
Grey canal glass.
Sinking slow.
(Humming fade out)
