I sit by the telephone line
Where the tall green needles align
My metal is cold to the touch
I wait for the hand I love much
Press a key and let the ink flow
Watch the heavy winter wind blow
Black on white and gold on the green
The quietest story ever seen
A girl with a lens in her eye
Watches the gray clouds drift by
She captures the rust on my frame
She doesn't even know my name
Press a key and let the ink flow
Watch the heavy winter wind blow
Black on white and gold on the green
The quietest story ever seen
The pine scent is thick in the air
A ribbon of red in her hair
She types out a note on my page
A bird breaking out of a cage
Press a key and let the ink flow
Watch the heavy winter wind blow
Black on white and gold on the green
The quietest story ever seen
The wires hum a low steady beat
The frozen mud clings to her feet
One last strike of the hammer head
The kind of truth that must be read
She leaves in a bus painted red
With all of the secrets we spread
I stay by the edge of the wood
Standing exactly where I stood
Press a key and let the ink flow
Watch the heavy winter wind blow
Black on white and gold on the green
The quietest story ever seen
Just a snap of the shutter light
Ink on paper, deep and bright
