Jeweller has a shop on the corner of the boulevard
In the night, in small spectacles he polishes old coins
He uses spit and cloths and ashes
He makes them shine with ashes

He knows the use of ashes
He worships God with ashes

The coins are often very old by the time they reach the jeweller
With his hand and ashes he will try the best he can
He knows that he can only shine them, cannot repair the scratches
He knows that even new coins have scars so he just smiles

He knows the use of ashes
He worships God with ashes

In the darkest of the night both his hands will blister badly
They will often open painfully and the blood flows from his hands
He works to take from black coin faces
The thumb prints from so many ages
He wishes he could cure the scars
When he forgets he sometimes cries

He knows the use of ashes
He worships God with ashes
He knows, he knows
He worships God with ashes...