I walk the steel in the freezing air
The wind is tugging at my copper hair
You sort the files in the basement gloom
A thousand papers in a concrete room
Hold the line while the ink starts to dry
One looks down and the other looks high
Swaying slow in a delicate dance
Giving the vertigo one little chance
My boots are slipping on a rusted beam
The city looks like a distorted dream
You stamp the dates on a yellowing sheet
While I can feel the humming of the street
Hold the line while the ink starts to dry
One looks down and the other looks high
Swaying slow in a delicate dance
Giving the vertigo one little chance
I drop a bolt and it falls through the sky
You watch the ledger with a heavy eye
I eat a burger from a greasy bag
Your old wool sweater has a tiny snag
The cable snaps like a guitar string
I hear the bell of the morning ring
The archive door is a heavy weight
We both are playing a gamble with fate
I see your window from a hundred feet
The smell of coffee is a savory treat
You find a letter from a dead man's hand
I balance steady on a narrow strand
Hold the line while the ink starts to dry
One looks down and the other looks high
Swaying slow in a delicate dance
Giving the vertigo one little chance
The shift is over and the sun is gold
The stories here are getting very old
I climb the ladder to the city light
You lock the basement for the coming night
Hold the line while the ink starts to dry
One looks down and the other looks high
Swaying slow in a delicate dance
Giving the vertigo one little chance
Keep the ink.
Keep the wire.
Hold the line.
