You scrub the calfskin till it gleams.
A steady rhythm in your schemes.
The Paris roofs are slate and blue.
The morning mist is fresh and new.
You treat the hide with oil and care.
A heavy scent hangs in the air.
Like Monstere Deliciosa green.
The finest stitch I've ever seen.
Buff it down to a golden light.
Keep the edges sharp and tight.
Slow it down in the summer heat.
Walking gold on a cobbled street.
You carve a line with steady hand.
The finest craft in all the land.
Like Calathea folding leaves.
The way the polished leather heaves.
Buff it down to a golden light.
Keep the edges sharp and tight.
Slow it down in the summer heat.
Walking gold on a cobbled street.
Wait for the grain to breathe and swell.
A story only skin can tell.
Patient as roots in heavy clay.
Watching the city fade to grey.
Your apron stained with wax and dye.
A quiet look within your eye.
The terrace wind is soft and low.
You watch the river current flow.
A pair of boots for someone new.
A shade of deep and royal blue.
Like rare orchids in a glass dome.
You build a place to call a home.
Buff it down to a golden light.
Keep the edges sharp and tight.
Slow it down in the summer heat.
Walking gold on a cobbled street.
Just a little more glow.
Watch the leather grow.
Golden light.
