Salt is thick on my old skin
Where the summer heat creeps in
Bending steel beneath my hand
Far away from shifting sand.
Trace the line of the iron rail
Where the summer wind turns pale
Hold the rust until it glows
That is how the story goes.
Copper taste in the evening air
Rough grey wool and silver hair
Step by step on a narrow stair
Finding things I used to wear.
Trace the line of the iron rail
Where the summer wind turns pale
Hold the rust until it glows
That is how the story goes.
Red brick walls in a dusty row
Where the heavy river flow
I can feel the metal shake
Like a promise I couldn't break.
Trace the line of the iron rail
Where the summer wind turns pale
Hold the rust until it glows
That is how the story goes.
Black oil stains on a wooden floor
I don't knock on that open door
Just the heat of a dying sun
Now the sailing days are done.
One more climb to the highest ledge
Walking out on the jagged edge
Feet are heavy and the air is thick
Listen to the clockwork tick.
Hymns I sang in a wooden pew
Back when all the world was new
Now the iron is all I hold
In a city turning cold.
Trace the line of the iron rail
Where the summer wind turns pale
Hold the rust until it glows
That is how the story goes.
Just the rust and the iron rail.
Iron edge, iron edge.
