Track Insight / Lyrics
The grey yawns wide, a silent plea,
A breath of salt, just you and me.
The ferry sleeps, a shadowed form,
While leather sighs, weathering the storm.
Your hands, they know the grain so well,
Each buff and stroke, a story to tell.
Of journeys taken, burdens borne,
A quiet rhythm, since the break of morn.
*Cuirassia lucida*, a softened sheen,
Reflecting light where darkness has been.
Docklight bloom, on polished hide,
A golden grace, with the turning tide.
The empty dock, a whispered name,
A fleeting warmth, in the fading flame.
Docklight bloom, a secret shown,
A quiet comfort, all alone.
The harbor stills, a mirrored glass,
Each gentle swipe, moments that pass.
The scent of oil, a vintage grace,
Lost in the stillness of this empty space.
*Tilia americana*, a scent so deep,
While city slumbers, and secrets sleep.
Docklight bloom, on polished hide,
A golden grace, with the turning tide.
The empty dock, a whispered name,
A fleeting warmth, in the fading flame.
Docklight bloom, a secret shown,
A quiet comfort, all alone.
You trace the seams, a practiced art,
Mending the stories, tearing apart.
A weathered soul, finds solace here,
Wiping away the passing year.
*Juglans nigra*, a sturdy soul,
Making something broken, beautifully whole.
The cold creeps in, the air is thin,
But in your work, a light within.
Each careful move, a mindful grace,
A silent rhythm, in this lonely place.
A patient heart, a steady hand,
A timeless craft, across the land.
The first bird calls, a fragile sound,
As dawn awakens, all around.
The leather gleams, a burnished gold,
A story whispered, brave and bold.
*Acer saccharum*, strength and peace,
A quiet beauty, that will never cease.
Docklight bloom, on polished hide,
A golden grace, with the turning tide.
The empty dock, a whispered name,
A fleeting warmth, in the fading flame.
Docklight bloom, a secret shown,
A quiet comfort, all alone.
The ferry stirs, a distant sigh,
A promise of journeys, passing by.
But here and now, a moment stays,
In the docklight glow, of these golden days.
*Quercus alba*, resilient and free,
A whispered solace, for you and me.
Docklight bloom, on polished hide,
A golden grace, with the turning tide.
The empty dock, a whispered name,
A radiant warmth, in the blazing flame.
Docklight bloom, a secret shown,
A quiet comfort, never alone.
Leather sighs, a whispered plea, Docklight blooms, eternally.
Grey turns to gold, soft and slow,
As gentle currents ebb and flow.
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