The kettle screams a steady note
A woolly scarf around my throat
The kitchen floor is scrubbed and grey
I watch the winter fade away
The brass glass gathers orange rust
A heavy lens a layer of dust
It saw the ships a mile from shore
Now it doesn't see them anymore
I kept the wick and oil clean
The brightest light they'd ever seen
But now the oil is in the can
I'm just a tired old broken man
The brass glass gathers orange rust
A heavy lens a layer of dust
It saw the ships a mile from shore
Now it doesn't see them anymore
The salt air eats the iron gate
The tide comes in a little late
I brew the tea in a ceramic pot
And think of things that I forgot
The brass glass gathers orange rust
A heavy lens a layer of dust
It saw the ships a mile from shore
Now it doesn't see them anymore
A single spark in a blackened sky
I watched the white sails floating by
The lens was clear the view was wide
Before the turning of the tide
It leans against the peeling wall
I wait for some distant signal call
The steam rises up in a ghostly white
While I prepare for one last night
The brass glass gathers orange rust
A heavy lens a layer of dust
It saw the ships a mile from shore
Now it doesn't see them anymore
Just a layer of dust. The brass glass.
(Humming)
