Grey stones sleep in the Roman dew
Old boots walk a path that is new
I rub the hide with a heavy hand
Smallest king of this cobbled land
The coffee pots start to hiss and steam
Waking up from a heavy dream
The morning air is a cold thin sheet
Waiting for the rush of the street
Polish the leather, catch the gold light
Rubbing the dullness right out of sight
Round and around on a piece of brown skin
Wait for the day for the city to begin
Your fingers move like a steady tide
Hiding the wear on a weathered hide
I see the sun on the edge of a shoe
Painting the pavement a golden hue
The coffee pots start to hiss and steam
Waking up from a heavy dream
The morning air is a cold thin sheet
Waiting for the rush of the street
Polish the leather, catch the gold light
Rubbing the dullness right out of sight
Round and around on a piece of brown skin
Wait for the day for the city to begin
I spent my years by a salty spray
Watching the ships in a foggy bay
Now I just watch how the brass buttons glow
While the slow Roman river will flow
Polish the leather, catch the gold light
Rubbing the dullness right out of sight
Round and around on a piece of brown skin
Wait for the day for the city to begin
You hold the brush like a sailor's line
Tying the knot till the surface is fine
The cafe doors open wide with a creak
Finding the shine that the gentlemen seek
Polish the leather, catch the gold light
Rubbing the dullness right out of sight
Round and around on a piece of brown skin
Wait for the day for the city to begin
One last rub for the road.
Make it shine.
