The fog is thick and white.
It hides the city light.
I lean against the rail.
The winter air is pale.
Grey water, frozen deep.
While all the houses sleep.
One lantern on the quay.
The only thing I see.
My coffee in a cup.
I watch the steam go up.
A bicycle rolls by.
Under a heavy sky.
Grey water, frozen deep.
While all the houses sleep.
One lantern on the quay.
The only thing I see.
The bridge is old and wide.
The river is a tide.
I count the passing hours.
Beside the sleeping towers.
Grey water, frozen deep.
While all the houses sleep.
One lantern on the quay.
The only thing I see.
Old boots upon the street.
The rhythmic steady beat.
The metal locks are cold.
The winter story told.
Wait for the morning bell.
A story left to tell.
The mist begins to clear.
The early sun is near.
A distant ship will sail.
Through a ghostly silver veil.
I lock the heavy gate.
The city cannot wait.
Grey water, frozen deep.
While all the houses sleep.
One lantern on the quay.
The only thing I see.
The mist is drifting low.
It is time for me to go.
