You hold the metal in your palm.
The coastal wind is cold and calm.
You walk the concrete overpass.
The morning dew is clear as glass.
The salt air bites into the skin.
Where does the heavy road begin?
A brass key without any door.
You don't know what you're searching for.
A golden weight inside your hand.
A stranger in a salted land.
The highway hums a steady beat.
The gray asphalt beneath your feet.
You trace the ridges with your thumb.
Until your fingertips go numb.
The salt air bites into the skin.
Where does the heavy road begin?
A brass key without any door.
You don't know what you're searching for.
A golden weight inside your hand.
A stranger in a salted land.
You see the white foam hit the sand.
The jagged cliffs a distant band.
You wonder where the lock might hide.
Below the rushing ocean tide.
Old hymn books and a wooden pew.
The Sunday light was gold and new.
You remember how the choir sang.
While the heavy iron bell rang.
A brass key without any door.
You don't know what you're searching for.
A golden weight inside your hand.
A stranger in a salted land.
The traffic flows in steady lines.
You ignore all the yellow signs.
You keep the secret in your coat.
A heavy metal steady note.
A brass key without any door.
You don't know what you're searching for.
A golden weight inside your hand.
A stranger in a salted land.
Turn the lock, find the way.
Wait for the break of day.
