Grease burns clean on the flat top grill
Coffee black fills a chipped white cup still
Brass key sits on the porch rail wood
No door frame stands where a door once stood
Brass key rests where no door frame stands
Tarnished brass in bayou hands
Telecaster cuts a low baritone
Porch holds secrets water owns
Cypress knees pierce the black water skin
Moss hangs thick where the light gives in
Mosquito whine tunes the dusk chorus
Key catches purple, not made for us
Brass key rests where no door frame stands
Tarnished brass in bayou hands
Telecaster cuts a low baritone
Porch holds secrets water owns
Regulars joke bout the key that fits nothing
Old man Lafleur just shrugs at the something
Wipes his hands on a flour sack towel
Says the bayou keeps what the bayou allows
Brass key rests where no door frame stands
Tarnished brass in bayou hands
Telecaster cuts a low baritone
Porch holds secrets water owns
Gator slides silent past cypress shadow
Fireflies stitch up the dusk meadow
Key grows cold as the temperature drops
Porch swing creaks when the wind gusts stops
Brass key rests where no door frame stands
Tarnished brass in bayou hands
Telecaster cuts a low baritone
Porch holds secrets water owns
Two voices braid in the falsetto rise
One sings grease, one sings stars in eyes
Harmonize over the Telecaster line
Thirteen one keeps the perfect time
Shift ends slow when the sun comes back
Key still rests on the weathered stack
No door comes. No door ever will
Bayou don't need what the bayou don't fill
Brass key rests where no door frame stands
Tarnished brass in bayou hands
Telecaster cuts a low baritone
Porch holds secrets water owns
Brass key rests where no door frame stands
Tarnished brass in bayou hands
Brass key waits. Bayou keeps breathing
Thirteen one fades out leaving