I sleep in a box of old pine.
Waiting for a gold-threaded line.
Like a seed in the dark of the loam.
This basement has become my home.
I breathe in the scent of the brass.
Watching all the night-seekers pass.
Like a root seeking water and salt.
My shutter is frozen in halt.
Flash of light in the velvet room.
Breaking through the midnight gloom.
Catch the swing of the double bass.
Freeze the look on a stranger's face.
Rhodes piano plays a low hum.
Beating like a slow steady drum.
Like a leaf turning face to the sun.
The magic of the night has begun.
Flash of light in the velvet room.
Breaking through the midnight gloom.
Catch the swing of the double bass.
Freeze the look on a stranger's face.
Chrome and glass in a steady grip.
Let the silver emulsion slip.
Patience grows in the chemical bath.
Finding a clear and a luminous path.
Muted trumpet begins to cry.
Underneath a concrete gray sky.
Like a bloom of a rare orchid vine.
The edges of the vision align.
Heavy swing in the smoky air.
Caught in a sudden electric glare.
Like a forest in wintery sleep.
The memories are buried and deep.
Flash of light in the velvet room.
Breaking through the midnight gloom.
Catch the swing of the double bass.
Freeze the look on a stranger's face.
Silver grain, velvet blue.
Silver grain, something new.
