I sit where the cold currents blow
Where the green sea-grasses grow
My iron skin turns a deep red
While the harbor tide is fed.
The salt eats my brass and my gold
A story that never was told
I remember the ivory white
And the glow of a parlor light.
Oh, I am rusting by the pier
The wind is the only song I hear
My strings are tight but the pitch is wrong
I have waited for far too long.
A Salicornia clings to my base
A wild green vine in a lonely place
The brine is a heavy grey cloak
Like the scent of a dying oak smoke.
Oh, I am rusting by the pier
The wind is the only song I hear
My strings are tight but the pitch is wrong
I have waited for far too long.
My hammers are frozen in place
A frozen look on a wooden face
The ocean is humming a low deep chord
A song that the sailors all ignored.
The gulls circle high in the blue
Their cries are the only thing true
I dream of a hand and a tuning key
To set all my heavy spirits free.
The peat in the soil is so black
I pray that the master comes back
To wipe off the spray of the foam
And carry this broken box home.
Oh, I am rusting by the pier
The wind is the only song I hear
My strings are tight but the pitch is wrong
I have waited for far too long.
Salt and steel, salt and steel.
Wait for the tide to feel.
