Golden hour hits the pine
Sinking low in a straight line
Wooden slats under my feet
Where the salt and river meet
Black leather gloves on the wood
Staying right where they stood
Dusk is blue and the air is thick
Time is moving way too quick
Silver flash in my right hand
Capturing this heavy land
Buses humming far away
While the purple turns to grey
Black leather gloves on the wood
Staying right where they stood
Dusk is blue and the air is thick
Time is moving way too quick
Cypress knees in the dark mud
Feel the rhythm in my blood
Tied to porches made of oak
While the distant chimneys smoke
Black leather gloves on the wood
Staying right where they stood
Dusk is blue and the air is thick
Time is moving way too quick
Scent of cedar and old rain
Hiding every little stain
Hold the image in a frame
Nothing here will feel the same
Cold skin touching velvet hide
Nowhere left for us to hide
Wait for the moon to hit the stream
Waking up from a heavy dream
One last shot of the wide sky
Watch the heavy herons fly
Leave the gloves on the porch floor
I can't wait here anymore
Black leather gloves on the wood
Staying right where they stood
Dusk is blue and the air is thick
Time is moving way too quick
Leather on the floor
Close the wooden door