Steel frames lean in the heat of the day
Paint on the depot is peeling away
Slowing my pedal, I stop by the wall
Watching the ivy begin its long crawl
Rooted in rust where the wild things grow
Watching the slow steady river flow
Holding my ground in the heavy clay
Waiting for colors to brighten the gray
Taraxacum breaks the concrete apart
Life in the cracks is a beautiful art
I touch the soil with a trembling hand
Learning the laws of this weathered old land
Rooted in rust where the wild things grow
Watching the slow steady river flow
Holding my ground in the heavy clay
Waiting for colors to brighten the gray
Latin names hum in the back of my mind
Something forgotten that I need to find
Patience is gold when the season is deep
Waking the seeds from a century sleep
The chain on my bike is a silver line
The scent of the clover is sweet and divine
I breathe in the musk of the damp summer air
Finding a peace that is honest and rare
Rooted in rust where the wild things grow
Watching the slow steady river flow
Holding my ground in the heavy clay
Waiting for colors to brighten the gray
I lean on the siding of weathered old pine
Following patterns of a winding vine
Steel may decay but the clover will rise
Under the glow of the wide open skies
Rooted in rust where the wild things grow
Watching the slow steady river flow
Holding my ground in the heavy clay
Waiting for colors to brighten the gray
Rooted in rust, yeah
Stay in the clay
Just stay in the clay
