Track Insight / Lyrics
I lay on the cold red clay,
The autumn wind blows the day.
My fingers are stiff and thin,
Where the city noise begins.
I feel the heavy boot tread,
The brick path is rusty red.
A copper leaf hits my palm,
The morning is frozen calm.
I am searching for the hand,
Lost within this salted land.
Holding tight to every seam,
Like a heavy winter dream.
The salt air is thick and gray,
I watch the gold light decay.
I slide through the narrow grit,
Where the heavy shadows sit.
I am searching for the hand,
Lost within this salted land.
Holding tight to every seam,
Like a heavy winter dream.
I remember a warm skin,
Before the long cold set in.
Now I touch the granite stone,
Walking through the street alone.
A carriage wheel spins in mud,
The evening is thick like blood.
I reach for a woolen sleeve,
Something that will never leave.
The beacon is far away,
The Boston sky turns to clay.
I wait for a gentle hold,
To shield me from all the cold.
I am searching for the hand,
Lost within this salted land.
Holding tight to every seam,
Like a heavy winter dream.
Just a grip of brown leather.
In the biting autumn weather.
