The morning fog is thick and grey
The ferry boat has sailed away
The dock is cold and wet and bare
A salty chill is in the air
He finds his peace in ink and glue
Where every page is crisp and new
Safe from the wind and winter rain
A paper harbor for his pain
He stalks the aisles of leather gold
Where ancient heavy myths unfold
He curls beneath a wooden chair
With yellow light and quiet air
The shop bell rings a silver chime
He marks the slow and steady time
A stranger stops to buy a book
He gives the man a steady look
He finds his peace in ink and glue
Where every page is crisp and new
Safe from the wind and winter rain
A paper harbor for his pain
The steel guitar begins to cry
Beneath a pale and iron sky
He feels a hand upon his head
The cold of dawn is finally dead
The coffee steam begins to rise
He blinks his amber feline eyes
The harbor waits for tide and foam
But here inside he found a home
He finds his peace in ink and glue
Where every page is crisp and new
Safe from the wind and winter rain
A paper harbor for his pain
The ink is black
The cat stays back
A paper harbor.
