A faded map from eighty-two
The ink is grey the lines are blue
He counts the steps along the street
Where cold concrete meets tired feet
Past the greenhouse cracked and old
Where the winter air turns cold
Counting steps in rhythmic time
One more mountain left to climb
The broken panes are jagged stars
He walks past rows of rusted cars
The iron gates are locked and tight
Underneath a pale yellow light
Past the greenhouse cracked and old
Where the winter air turns cold
Counting steps in rhythmic time
One more mountain left to climb
A single leaf of emerald green
The smallest thing he's ever seen
It grows beneath a splintered sheet
Above the noise of city heat
He turns the page to find the way
Back to a warmer sunny day
The ink is blurred by salty rain
A map that marks a hidden pain
He stops to watch the steam arise
While distant trains ignite the skies
The walking bass begins to swing
As bells in distant towers ring
Past the greenhouse cracked and old
Where the winter air turns cold
Counting steps in rhythmic time
One more mountain left to climb
The station bell begins to toll
A heavy weight upon his soul
He folds the paper in his hand
A stranger in a lonely land
Past the greenhouse cracked and old
Where the winter air turns cold
Counting steps in rhythmic time
One more mountain left to climb
Counting steps until the end
Around the final city bend
Just one more step
Just one more step
