Grey dawn on a Roman street
The cobblestones feel the heat
A heavy lock with no design
I wait here on the border line
I am a key without a door
Searching for a hidden floor
Turning in the morning air
Finding something that isn't there
Coffee pots begin to steam
Waking from a heavy dream
The cafe chairs are lined in rows
While the early river flows
I am a key without a door
Searching for a hidden floor
Turning in the morning air
Finding something that isn't there
Copper skin and iron rust
Treading through the city dust
I feel the weight of every notch
Counting seconds on a watch
Saints in stone with vacant eyes
Underneath the velvet skies
Tension pulls the wire tight
Waiting for the sudden light
Leather boots on polished slate
Pacing by the iron gate
I hear the rattle of the tray
Bringing in the brand new day
I am a key without a door
Searching for a hidden floor
Turning in the morning air
Finding something that isn't there
One last look at empty space
Searching for a matching face
Steel and brass against the grain
Washing off the midnight stain
I am a key without a door
Searching for a hidden floor
Turning in the morning air
Finding something that isn't there
Just a key in the cold.
Just a key in the cold.
Cold stone, gold light.
