I sit on a roof of old slate
I watch as the morning grows late
The red brick is cold on the street
I count every pair of fast feet
I turn to the north and the west
The autumn wind puts me to test
Spinning in gold and in rust
Counting the boots in the dust
The cider is sweet in the air
The brown fallen leaves everywhere
A girl in a coat of deep blue
Walks past with a step that is true
A man with a cane and a hat
Stops by for a long winter chat
He leans on the wall of the store
I spin as he walks to the door
I turn to the north and the west
The autumn wind puts me to test
Spinning in gold and in rust
Counting the boots in the dust
The salt of the harbor is near
The call of the gulls is so clear
I hold every name that I see
While wind blows the spirit of me
The lanterns are lit in the square
A chill settles deep in the air
The sidewalk is worn and it's gray
I watch as the light fades away
I turn to the north and the west
The autumn wind puts me to test
Spinning in gold and in rust
Counting the boots in the dust
Just a copper bird on a beam
Watching the city's long dream
Spinning slow.
Spinning slow.
