Coffee black in a plastic cup
Wait for the early sun to wake up
Grease on the grill and a burnt toasted bun
Counting the hours till the long shift is done
Ropes in my hands and a cold harbor breeze
Autumn wind shaking the gold maple trees
Standing my ground on the old crimson street
Feeling the history under my feet
Hold on to the red brick coast
The kind of a place we love the most
Keep the old line steady and true
I am waiting here just for you
I flip the burgers and I pour the brew
Wondering if the harbor view is new
You watch the ferries glide into the bay
Wishing the October cold would stay
Hold on to the red brick coast
The kind of a place we love the most
Keep the old line steady and true
I am waiting here just for you
The salt air bites through a thin wool coat
The harbor swells round a heavy boat
One last look at the shoreline stone
A feeling of being finally known
I wipe the counter with a damp grey rag
Watching the wind hit the navy blue flag
Your boots are heavy on the weathered clay
Counting the minutes of a shorter day
Slinging the hash while the regulars stare
Salty sea scent in the crisp morning air
Guard every stone till the winter arrives
Living our slow and our quietest lives
Hold on to the red brick coast
The kind of a place we love the most
Keep the old line steady and true
I am waiting here just for you
Red brick, salt air.
Red brick, salt air.
Just for you.
