Track Insight / Lyrics
Grease on the grill and a pot of black brew
Counting the regulars, faces I knew
I step to the terrace to clear out my head
Where the city of light turns a deep shade of red
The air tastes of copper and old charcoal smoke
The wind hits the railing like a cruel little joke
Old wooden rose with a string made of rust
Sitting out here in a blanket of dust
Looking at roofs while the evening turns grey
Waiting for someone to carry it away
Maple and spruce in a velvet-lined case
Forgotten out here in this cold open space
The varnish is peeling, the bridge has a crack
Once it starts humming, there is no turning back
The air tastes of copper and old charcoal smoke
The wind hits the railing like a cruel little joke
Old wooden rose with a string made of rust
Sitting out here in a blanket of dust
Looking at roofs while the evening turns grey
Waiting for someone to carry it away
I flip a few burgers and pour out the tea
Thinking of things that I never could be
A song in the alley, a bow on the wire
A spark in the ashes, a small kind of fire
The zinc tops are shining in the diner below
But up on this terrace the rhythms are slow
One day I might touch it and feel the old beat
While the taxi cabs rumble down every street
Old wooden rose with a string made of rust
Sitting out here in a blanket of dust
Looking at roofs while the evening turns grey
Waiting for someone to carry it away
The regulars leave and the coffee gets cold
A story of music that never was told
I'll wipe down the counter and lock up the door
And dream of a sound that I've heard once before
Old wooden rose with a string made of rust
Sitting out here in a blanket of dust
Looking at roofs while the evening turns grey
Waiting for someone to carry it away
Just a bit of rust on the rose.
Yeah, carry it away.
