Steel keys frozen in a row
Waiting for the morning glow
Iron ribs and ribbon black
Keeping all the rhythms back
I feel the root of city stone
Watching all the seeds be sown
Ink on paper, gold in light
Sifting through the Roman night
Heavy keys and heavy beat
Listening to the cobblestone street
Sifting through the cobblestone street
Piazza Navona is still
Bending like a willow will
I am rooted in the wood
Watching where the statues stood
Latin names in leather binds
Patient as the ivy climbs
Ink on paper, gold in light
Sifting through the Roman night
Heavy keys and heavy beat
Listening to the cobblestone street
Sifting through the cobblestone street
Scent of coffee starts to rise
Opening the city eyes
Sputtering the metal flame
Calling every street by name
Pressed against the wooden shelf
Keeping all the truth itself
Ink on paper, gold in light
Sifting through the Roman night
Heavy keys and heavy beat
Listening to the cobblestone street
Sifting through the cobblestone street
Slower than the growing vine
Waiting for a perfect line
Syllables like river silt
Building what the poets built
Wait for the hammer to fall
Write the story for them all
Copper bells begin to chime
Marking out the steady time
Tamped down dirt and ancient clay
Welcoming the break of day
One last strike before the crowd
Makes the morning way too loud
Ink on paper, gold in light
Sifting through the Roman night
Heavy keys and heavy beat
Listening to the cobblestone street
Sifting through the cobblestone street
Just a strike and then a bell.
Settle in the soil.
Click-clack.