You walk the street where the merchants shout
Where the gold and the silk are spread out
But deep in the dirt where the sewer runs cold
There is a story that ain't ever told
Down in the low market jail
Where the iron locks never fail
Cold salt air and a heavy chain
Waiting for a wind that can wash the stain
The ceiling is damp and the air is a haze
You count every brick in a dizzying maze
No sun on your skin just the flicker of oil
While the city above keeps a frantic boil
Down in the low market jail
Where the iron locks never fail
Cold salt air and a heavy chain
Waiting for a wind that can wash the stain
The warden has skin like a piece of old leather
He tells you the storm is a bit of bad weather
He feeds you a crust and a cup of gray brew
Then asks what a man like a prisoner can do
Down in the low market jail
Where the iron locks never fail
Cold salt air and a heavy chain
Waiting for a wind that can wash the stain
I kept a light on a rocky peak high
I watched for the ships under a black sky
I know how it feels when the lantern goes dim
And the tide pulls you down till you sink and you swim
Now you are the wick in a cellar of clay
Counting the hours till the break of the day
The market is humming a song for the rich
While you are just digging a deep muddy ditch
Down in the low market jail
Where the iron locks never fail
Cold salt air and a heavy chain
Waiting for a wind that can wash the stain
Just a bolt in the wall.
Keep your eyes on the stone.
