I kept the wick trimmed low and tight
To guide the ships through winter night
The salt has worn my boots to grey
I watch the tide drift far away
I walk the aisles of paper gold
Where stories wait and ink is old
I leave the shop for iron rails
To watch the wind rip through the sails
Wait for the whistle in the air
A velvet coat and a steady stare
The paint is peeling off the wall
While the autumn leaves begin to fall
The depot bench is cold and hard
A lonely ghost in a rusted yard
I hold a lantern in my hand
A steady light across the sand
Wait for the whistle in the air
A velvet coat and a steady stare
The paint is peeling off the wall
While the autumn leaves begin to fall
The tracks are frozen in the grit
The heavy lamps are barely lit
A sudden spark a sudden flare
A scent of cedar in the air
I chase a moth with a flick of paw
The sharpest wind I ever saw
The station clock has lost its beat
I feel the concrete on my feet
The ocean calls for a heavy toll
The iron engine claims my soul
We meet where old wood turns to rust
And leave the city in the dust
Wait for the whistle in the air
A velvet coat and a steady stare
The paint is peeling off the wall
While the autumn leaves begin to fall
Peeling paint blue.
The whistle blows true.
Just me and you.
