Track Insight / Lyrics
Dust motes dance in fading gold,
A rhythm old, a story told.
Cobblestones worn, a shadowed grace,
Footsteps echo in this place.
A plastic shell, a muted hue,
Rewinding years, a point of view.
Each click and whir, a ghostly trace,
Of autumn walks at slower pace.
He walks the path, a steady beat,
Past brownstones hushed on Chestnut Street.
The tape is thin, a fragile hold,
On memories precious, more than gold.
A whispered prayer, a sigh released,
A fleeting moment, inner peace.
Brick and tape, a turning sound,
Footsteps falling on hallowed ground.
Brick and tape, the season bends,
A lonely echo never ends.
The Common sleeps in amber light,
A chilly breeze, a star-filled night.
He counts the cracks, each weathered stone,
A silent journey, all alone.
The tape unwinds, a silver thread,
Connecting past to dreams ahead.
The tape is thin, a fragile hold,
On memories precious, more than gold.
A whispered prayer, a sigh released,
A fleeting moment, inner peace.
Brick and tape, a turning sound,
Footsteps falling on hallowed ground.
Brick and tape, the season bends,
A lonely echo never ends.
A wrought iron gate, a rusted key,
Unlocking secrets, silently.
He sees a face in window pane,
A phantom touch, a gentle rain.
The tape still spins, a ghostly guide,
Where yesterday and now collide.
Each footfall falls, a measured rhyme,
Lost in the currents of passing time.
The city breathes, a somber song,
Where broken hearts have waited long.
He closes eyes, feels history near,
Washing away all doubt and fear.
Brick and tape, a turning sound,
Footsteps falling on hallowed ground.
Brick and tape, the season bends,
A lonely echo never ends.
The tape grows faint, the signal weak,
A fading voice he longs to speak.
He stops to listen, close and low,
To whispers carried on the flow.
The cobblestones remember well,
Stories the autumn breezes tell.
Brick and tape, a turning sound,
Footsteps falling on hallowed ground.
Brick and tape, the season bends,
A lonely echo never ends.
A final click, the tape is done,
The walk is over, day is won.
But echoes linger, soft and deep,
While Boston slumbers in its sleep.
Brick and tape…brick and tape…
Fades to silence, a sweet escape.
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