The rain hits the glass like a stone
I sit in this corner alone
The soap suds are white as the spray
The gray morning washes the day
My varnish is cracked and it's old
The air in the lobby is cold
I lean on a plastic red chair
With salt in my resin and hair
I guard the spin of the wheel
A song made of maple and steel
Wait for the hand on the bow
While the heavy rain waters the sow
The dryers they hum and they shake
A rhythm that makes the floor quake
A man in a coat soaked and thin
Is waiting for laundry to spin
I guard the spin of the wheel
A song made of maple and steel
Wait for the hand on the bow
While the heavy rain waters the sow
The lighthouse is far to the east
Where the gale and the white water feast
I remember the oil and the wick
The clock with its steady old tick
No sailors come walking this street
Just tired soles and wet leather feet
They look at my strings and they pass
Behind the thick sheet of the glass
I hold a deep note in my chest
Until the last customer finds rest
The streetlights are humming a tune
Under a wet and a pale winter moon
I guard the spin of the wheel
A song made of maple and steel
Wait for the hand on the bow
While the heavy rain waters the sow
Steady the wheel
Maple and steel
Rain on the glass
Wait for it to pass
