Track Insight / Lyrics
Grease on the grill and a pot of brew
Counting the hours until I am through
Down in the basement where the horns blow loud
Hiding away from the midnight crowd
Gold on the concrete, a brass little tick
Counting the seconds, a rhythmic trick
Slipping through fingers, a heavy gold chain
Holding the rhythm, ignoring the rain
Old man Joe wants his eggs on the side
Somewhere the ghosts of the jazzmen hide
I found a treasure by the cellar door
Lying forgotten on the concrete floor
Gold on the concrete, a brass little tick
Counting the seconds, a rhythmic trick
Slipping through fingers, a heavy gold chain
Holding the rhythm, ignoring the rain
Wound up too tight like a spring in a box
Ticking away while the city street locks
Scratched on the casing, a name I don't know
Watching the hours and the coffee flow slow
Gold on the concrete, a brass little tick
Counting the seconds, a rhythmic trick
Slipping through fingers, a heavy gold chain
Holding the rhythm, ignoring the rain
The bass is a thrum in the soles of my feet
The smell of the oil and the salt of the meat
I hold it close while the saxophone screams
Waking me up from my short-order dreams
I'll put it in my pocket, keep it in tow
Wait for the owner to come by and go
Back to the griddle and a stack of white toast
Ticking away like a gold-plated ghost
Gold on the concrete, a brass little tick
Counting the seconds, a rhythmic trick
Slipping through fingers, a heavy gold chain
Holding the rhythm, ignoring the rain
Just a brass little tick
Just a rhythmic trick
Tick, tack, tick, tack
One more cup of black
