I hear the scratch of the chair
And the clink of the porcelain
As your cap toes tap down
Upon the old marble floor
And the manuscript lays
Always unopened
You stare down upon it
And overlook the notes
And pulled in tight to the keys
You utter
Count me in
And weary faces grow
Singing, leave us, leave us, go
A ghost wades through the walls at night
And winds film towards my eyes
Antique scenes and old clockwork radio
And pulled in tight to the keys
You utter
Count me in
Two, three, four
And weary faces grow
Singing, leave us, leave us, go
A ghost wades through the walls at night
And winds film towards my eyes
Antique scenes and old clockwork radio
Antique scenes and old clockwork radio