I stand on a salt-crust pier
The fog is a heavy gear
My skin is a copper green
The coldest I've ever been
I spin in the bay wind blow
I watch where the tankers go
I point to the northern light
And hold on with all my might
The iron is eating my base
The brine leaves a bitter trace
The sailors all walk on by
Under a slate-grey sky
I spin in the bay wind blow
I watch where the tankers go
I point to the northern light
And hold on with all my might
A rusted bolt slips from the beam
The metal begins to scream
I tilt to the western shore
I cannot hold steady no more
I spin in the bay wind blow
I watch where the tankers go
I point to the northern light
And hold on with all my might
The current pulls deep and slow
The tide has a steady flow
I feel the weld start to tear
Swaying in the misty air
The cable is frayed and thin
Let the winter water in
I lean toward the crashing foam
Far from any place called home
I spin in the bay wind blow
I watch where the tankers go
I point to the northern light
And hold on with all my might
Turn it round, turn it round.
Copper North.
Just hold on.
