I sit high on a rusted steel shelf
A lonely box talking to myself
I watch the brass horn start to blow
While the basement crowds begin to glow
Spin the silver reel, feel the heavy roll
Burn the white light deep in a jazzman's soul
Ride the iron track where the rhythms fly
Underneath a low and a smoky sky
I cast a beam on the velvet wall
Watching every high and every fall
The sax man sweats in a linen suit
While the bass line plays a steady root
Old fares come in from the windy street
Tapping out a rhythm with their feet
They pay the price for a midnight show
Where the amber liquids start to flow
Spin the silver reel, feel the heavy roll
Burn the white light deep in a jazzman's soul
Ride the iron track where the rhythms fly
Underneath a low and a smoky sky
The gears grind slow in a steady beat
I feel the hum of the city heat
The film strip pulls like a heavy chain
Washing out the grey of the winter rain
I see the ghosts of the old downtown
Wearing every jewel in a copper crown
The shutter clicks and the image clears
Counting all the miles and the passing years
Spin the silver reel, feel the heavy roll
Burn the white light deep in a jazzman's soul
Ride the iron track where the rhythms fly
Underneath a low and a smoky sky
Just a silver reel in a basement room
Spinning through the haze and the midnight bloom
Roll it on.
Roll it on.
