You watch the glass door swing a wide arc
Small yellow eyes glowing in the dark
Wet asphalt glimmers in a cobalt hue
Counting the strangers passing through
One hundred steps to the edge of the street
Rhythm of leather and clicking of feet
Ink on the pages and salt in the air
Waiting for someone who knows that you're there
The smell of old glue and a damp wool coat
Small velvet paws on a handwritten note
A silver bell rings as a customer leaves
Cold winter wind pulls a tug at your sleeves
One hundred steps to the edge of the street
Rhythm of leather and clicking of feet
Ink on the pages and salt in the air
Waiting for someone who knows that you're there
You stretch your back on a stack of rare books
Giving the alley those long hungry looks
Electric blue light hits the puddles of gray
Dreaming of chasing the morning away
One hundred steps to the edge of the street
Rhythm of leather and clicking of feet
Ink on the pages and salt in the air
Waiting for someone who knows that you're there
A black umbrella tips over the brim
The golden street lamps are starting to dim
Syllables drift through the open night breeze
A soft little purr and a rhythmic ease
The clock on the wall makes a heavy sound
Feet hitting hard on the concrete ground
The ink is still wet and the midnight is deep
While the rest of the city is falling asleep
You curl in a circle on cedar wood floors
Watching the lock on the heavy oak doors
The drizzle is turning to diamonds of white
Holding the secret of one lonely night
One hundred steps to the edge of the street
Rhythm of leather and clicking of feet
Ink on the pages and salt in the air
Waiting for someone who knows that you're there
Counting the steps till the dawn
Counting the steps till you're gone One hundred steps
One hundred steps
