Meter ticks a steady beat
Grey asphalt on a narrow street
I have driven every line
Watching all the city signs
Floating on a wooden floor
Looking through an open door
Rooftops painted in the gold
Stories that the terrace told
Traffic jams and heavy rain
Driving through the urban pain
I can see the zinc and slate
Coming home a little late
Floating on a wooden floor
Looking through an open door
Rooftops painted in the gold
Stories that the terrace told
Coffee stains and old regrets
Paying off the heavy debts
Every fare a different face
Moving at a steady pace
Floating on a wooden floor
Looking through an open door
Rooftops painted in the gold
Stories that the terrace told
Paris air is cold and thin
Let the evening tide come in
Wooden planks beneath my feet
Where the sky and rooftops meet
Toss the keys and leave the wheel
Something that the senses feel
High above the busy crowd
Singing it out long and loud
Old proverbs in every turn
Lessons that a driver learn
Quiet terrace, steady hand
Looking at the urban land
Floating on a wooden floor
Looking through an open door
Rooftops painted in the gold
Stories that the terrace told
Wooden boat, city view
Wooden boat, something new
