Track Insight / Lyrics
I gather the scent of a long-gone spring,
Each shaving a memory, a silent thing.
The workshop breathes with a fading grace,
A quiet witness to time and space.
My grain remembers the mountain high,
Felt the cold winter and watched eagles fly.
He shaped my promise with calloused hand,
Built gentle beauty across the land.
The blade descends, a whispering sigh,
As golden curls drift and softly lie.
I feel the pressure, the steady beat,
A craftsman's labor, bittersweet.
Cedar and dust, a story untold,
Of hands that labored, and dreams of old.
Each fragrant pile, a moment caught,
A legacy whispered, dearly bought.
He built rocking horses, a sturdy swing,
Treasures for children, joy they would bring.
Now sunlight streams through the dusty pane,
A ghost of laughter, a sweet refrain.
I watch the shavings collect and grow,
A miniature landscape, soft and low.
The scent of cedar fills up the air,
A quiet solace beyond compare.
Cedar and dust, a story untold,
Of hands that labored, and dreams of old.
Each fragrant pile, a moment caught,
A legacy whispered, dearly bought.
The scent clings tightly, a fading hold,
Of stories cherished, more precious than gold.
Though seasons change and years drift by,
His touch remains in every sigh.
I hold the fragments, light and thin,
Echoes of purpose deep within.
A simple rhythm, a peaceful art,
A carpenter's soul, a loving heart.
Cedar and dust, a story untold,
Of hands that labored, and dreams of old.
Each fragrant pile, a moment caught,
A legacy whispered, dearly bought.
The broom sweeps softly, a final grace,
Cedar and dust, in this quiet place.
A gentle stillness, a lingering plea,
Remember the maker, remember me.
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