Track Insight / Lyrics
Dust motes dance in morning gray,
Cobblestones await a brand new day.
Keys are cool beneath my hand,
Watching Rome, a silent stand.
The square is hushed, a sleepy hold,
Before the stories start to unfold.
Espresso steam and laughter bright,
I watch it all in fading light.
A chipped enamel, ivory hue,
Witness to dreams, both false and true.
Each click and clack, a memory made,
A whispered promise, a sunlit shade.
The city breathes, a gentle sigh,
As shadows lengthen and mornings fly.
Roman typewriter, old and worn,
A silent guardian, newly born.
Watching over cobblestones so gray,
Waiting for the light of a new day.
Keys descend, a rhythmic beat,
Stories unfold on this quiet street.
A florist wakes, unfolds his wares,
Red roses blooming, beyond compares.
A stray cat stretches, sleek and slow,
Where ancient fountains softly flow.
I see a lover, hand in hand,
Lost in moments, across the land.
Each click and clack, a memory made,
A whispered promise, a sunlit shade.
The city breathes, a gentle sigh,
As shadows lengthen and mornings fly.
Roman typewriter, old and worn,
A silent guardian, newly born.
Watching over cobblestones so gray,
Waiting for the light of a new day.
Keys descend, a rhythmic beat,
Stories unfold on this quiet street.
The scent of baking, warm and sweet,
Drifts on breezes, a welcome treat.
A newsstand opens, papers fly,
Stories of the world drift by.
I chronicle each fleeting glance,
A timeless witness, a hopeful trance.
These keys have known a thousand tales,
Of joy and sorrow, through sun and gales.
From wartime whispers to love's embrace,
Each word imprinted, time and space.
A lonely vigil, steadfast and true,
A secret keeper, me and you.
Roman typewriter, old and worn,
A silent guardian, newly born.
Watching over cobblestones so gray,
Waiting for the light of a new day.
Keys descend, a rhythmic beat,
Stories unfold on this quiet street.
The cafe fills, a vibrant hum, Conversations rising, overcome.
The square awakens, bright and bold,
A tapestry of stories to be told.
My gears still turning, steady and slow,
Watching life blossom and endlessly grow.
Roman typewriter, old and worn,
A silent guardian, newly born.
Watching over cobblestones so gray,
Waiting for the light of a new day.
Keys descend, a rhythmic beat,
Stories unfold on this quiet street.
Click, clack, fade to gray,
Another story ends today.
Cobblestones gleam, bathed in gold,
A Roman secret, to have and hold.
The lamp still burns, a gentle glow,
As the city sleeps, soft and slow.
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