Fortress of Wool. English Bossa Nova +

(Verse 1) The world was spinning on a jagged edge, A clockwork heart with no time to rest. But now the clouds pull a heavy silver wedge, And put the city to a quiet, rhythmic test. I hear the pink noise tapping on the glass, A sonic veil that blurs the street away. I’ll let the hours and the worries pass, And find my peace inside this shade of grey. (Chorus) Oh, let the rain wash the fever from the air. I’m tucked away in a fortress of my own Under the wool, I haven’t a care. In the warmest place that I have ever known. The steam rises slow in a silver thread, While the sky spills its water to the ground. Safe in my cocoon, with no words to be said, Where the only thing that matters is the sound. (Verse 2) The floor lamp glows with a honey light, Shadows dancing on the paper in my hand. The wind is restless, looking for a fight, But it can’t reach this dry and quiet land. I breathe the cedar and the cinnamon spice, A slow-motion ritual for a weary soul. To be right here is more than just enough—it’s nice To feel the fragments turning whole. (Chorus) Oh, let the rain wash the fever from the air. I’m tucked away in a fortress of my own Under the wool, I haven’t a care. In the warmest place that I have ever known. The steam rises slow in a silver thread, While the sky spills its water to the ground. Safe in my cocoon, with no words to be said, Where the only thing that matters is the sound. (Verse 3) The past is gone, the future’s out of sight, Just a watery trail on a window pane. I’m sinking deep into the velvet night, Blessed by the mercy of the falling rain. The world can wait, it’s always stood in line, While I’m wrapped in cotton, far from the crowd. This moment’s hollowed out, and it is mine Beneath the heavy, low, and silver cloud.