Lyrics

Drops of morning resting on her skin as she awakens to the sounds of the streetcars in the city
On every corner she finds pieces of people that still have eyes for the sparks along the wire
There is music, and there is magic in the tunnels
they are singing an imperative melody
And, all these years she’s been passing by a woman selling flowers on the platform
She says: “Maybe life grows in the Eye of a Rose"

Chimes and Providence hanging from the windows of the working class angels with hard hands and sweet hearts
Every now and then she catches a glimpse of what might have been if only dreams would not expire
Nobody knows but the Eye of a Rose

How tender is time?
How fragile am I?
Will I live for greener pastures on the other side?
How long will it take?
How far will I make it before dreams have all run dry?
There is music and there is magic in the Unknown
Hear it sing?
An imperative melody
All these years I've been passing by the feeling of feeling alive
Nobody knows but the Eye of the Rose