Brass horn wide in the midnight glare
Cold white tile and the heavy air
One last train left a hollow sound
Iron wheels gone from the frozen ground
Spin the wheel and play the gold
Sing the stories never told
Searching for a ghost in line
Ticking like a rusted chime
Winding tight with a silver key
Searching for a lost melody
Copper teeth bite the black wax deep
While the city and the sleepers sleep
Empty benches and a salted floor
Looking for an open swinging door
Walking slow on a rhythmic beat
Searching for the pulse of steady feet
Spin the wheel and play the gold
Sing the stories never told
Searching for a ghost in line
Ticking like a rusted chime
Steel beams shake in a sudden gale
Cutting through a thin and paper veil
One bright spark in a heavy gray
Waiting for the coming of the day
Wooden box on a concrete shelf
Playing music to its lonely self
Scratched and worn but the tune is clear
Bringing every distant memory near
Spin the wheel and play the gold
Sing the stories never told
Searching for a ghost in line
Ticking like a rusted chime
Let the needle find the groove
One last beat to make it move
Just one more turn.
