My tool belt weighs a ton tonight
I watch the harbor catch the light
The salt air tastes like rusted tin
Where the city's gold begins
Listen to the wind on the quay
Swaying like a ship on the sea
Copper lines are humming a tune
Underneath a pale silver moon
I fix the lines in basement halls
Splicing cables through the walls
But here the breeze is wide and free
A different kind of frequency
I see the ferries cross the blue
Painting streaks of orange hue
I hold a lens to catch the glow
Watching all the traffic flow
Listen to the wind on the quay
Swaying like a ship on the sea
Copper lines are humming a tune
Underneath a pale silver moon
One wrong cut and the signal dies
Cold gray steel against the skies
I keep my steady hand on the gear
The humming in my ear is clear
The city lights are blinking fast
A million moments meant to last
I pack my kit and walk the sand
A lonely wire in my hand
Listen to the wind on the quay
Swaying like a ship on the sea
Copper lines are humming a tune
Underneath a pale silver moon
Just a hum on the line.
Swaying on the quay.
Copper wire static.
