Night shift ends at four a.m.
Grease still burns on both my hands
Coffee black in chipped ceramic
Regulars know where I stand
Brass key fits no lock I know
Sits where porch light used to glow
Bayou takes what wind brings in
Morning finds where night begins
Spanish moss drips slow on rail
Gator slides through black water trail
Fireflies stitch dusk to dark
Key stays warm from daytime spark
Brass key fits no lock I know
Sits where porch light used to glow
Bayou takes what wind brings in
Morning finds where night begins
Hash browns crisp on seasoned steel
Eggs flip clean with wrist appeal
Short jokes land on vinyl seats
Tips pay rent and grocery bills
Brass key fits no lock I know
Sits where porch light used to glow
Bayou takes what wind brings in
Morning finds where night begins
Cypress knees break water skin
Heron waits where fish swim in
Key turns nothing, turns to rust
Dusk arrives on wings and dust
No doorframe holds this brass weight down
No hinge sings its metal sound
Yet key remembers every hand
That turned it in some promised land
Grill cools slow in morning gray
Bayou swallows night and day
Key still waits for fingers rough
Love picks locks when times get tough
Brass key fits no lock I know
Sits where porch light used to glow
Bayou takes what wind brings in
Morning finds where night begins
Brass key fits no lock I know
Sits where porch light used to glow
Key rests quiet, brass and bright
Bayou holds the long night
