Chrome is cold and paint is chipped
On the path where winter slipped
Rubber tires hit the frost
In the white where I am lost
Ride the ghost of apple trees
Swaying in a frozen breeze
Spin the wheel and find the way
Wait for one more golden day
Iron frame and rusted chain
Sinking through the icy rain
Looking for a steady hand
Across this sleeping winter land
Bent fenders and a broken bell
A quiet story left to tell
Winding through the orchard row
Deep inside the heavy snow
Ride the ghost of apple trees
Swaying in a frozen breeze
Spin the wheel and find the way
Wait for one more golden day
One touch of a warm palm
Brings a sudden heavy calm
Gears will click and metal glows
While the northern winter blows
Hanging on a wooden gate
Counting hours while I wait
Searching for a faded trace
Of a kind and smiling face
Ride the ghost of apple trees
Swaying in a frozen breeze
Spin the wheel and find the way
Wait for one more golden day
Silver spokes in the white
Rolling home in the light
