I sit on a rusted old post
Where the garden is overgrown
I see all the things I love most
In a yard that I call my own
Spinning round in the copper wind
Watching where the wild grass thinned
Turning north then I turn to west
Giving all my metal a rest
The workshop is leaking some oil
Black stains on the concrete floor
The weeds start to tangle and coil
Right beside the heavy oak door
Spinning round in the copper wind
Watching where the wild grass thinned
Turning north then I turn to west
Giving all my metal a rest
A blue jay lands right on my head
The morning is cold and it's gray
The garden is sleeping in bed
While the summer just drifts far away
Spinning round in the copper wind
Watching where the wild grass thinned
Turning north then I turn to west
Giving all my metal a rest
I remember the hammer and heat
The spark of the forge in the night
The rhythm was steady and beat
Until I was polished and bright
Now the ivy climbs up my spine
Tugging hard on a copper line
I can feel the air start to shift
As the heavy gray clouds begin drift
The regulars walk by the gate
They don't see the bird in the sky
I'm just standing here in my state
Watching all of the seasons go by
Spinning round in the copper wind
Watching where the wild grass thinned
Turning north then I turn to west
Giving all my metal a rest
Just a turn in the breeze
Bending low with the trees
Spinning round.
