Buses roll by in a blur
Silver lines start to occur
I hold the lens to the grey
Watching the world drift away
Rust on the handle, cold in the rain
Waiting for water to wash out the stain
Under the bridge where the winter wind blows
Iron is sleeping while the canal flows
Water is black as a stone
Left in the corner alone
Soot on the bricks and the lime
Frozen inside of a time
Cables are humming a song
Where the forgotten belong
I snap a shot of the red
Waking the ghosts from their bed
Rust on the handle, cold in the rain
Waiting for water to wash out the stain
Under the bridge where the winter wind blows
Iron is sleeping while the canal flows
Metal turns orange and deep
While the city is fast asleep
A heavy weight in the haze
Lost in a colorless maze
Step off the curb to the edge
Leaning over the ledge
One little can in the cold
Telling a story untold
Rust on the handle, cold in the rain
Waiting for water to wash out the stain
Under the bridge where the winter wind blows
Iron is sleeping while the canal flows
Just a frame in the grey
Just a frame in the grey
Iron and fog