Track Insight / Lyrics
You left the phonograph on, in twilight hush
Dust motes waltz in glimmers, from the dying rush
Of day's last embers, fading fast to black
A lonesome sentinel, now, for your return's track
Polished edges dulled, as years slide by
Your treasured records, all stacked high
In the silence, music long-since worn
But still it yearns to turn, to hum, to warn...
Faded frequency calling, through static and time
A beacon in the ruins, a lover's rhyme
Be still, and listen close, for your name
**FADE-IN** Reinforced flesh and brass, around the spindle's base
Your fingers dancing quick, as the needle's steady pace
Transfers dark and light, in perpetual flight
The more desp'd the whorls, the more their stories thrall
Polished edges dulled, as years slide by
Your treasured records, all stacked high
In the silence, music long-since worn
But still it yearns to turn, to hum, to warn...
Faded frequency calling, through static and time
A beacon in the ruins, a lover's rhyme
Be still, and listen close, for your name
The gears revolve, slow and stiff, hesitant to speak
Your ghostly echo, now, all that this machine seeks
It yearns to breathe life back, into its forgotten limbs
To reverberate, in rhythm, to your heartbeat's hum
In neon-lit alleys, as the townspeople throng
The vacant night air vibrates, with an unseen song
Cables overhead thrum, a siren's primal beat
The city's pulse, augmented, electronic repeat
A symphony of turntables, spinning, pulsing, alive
Pitched vocal chops, soaring high, catching your ear's cleft
Every fragment rising, to a euphoric crescendo rise
A midnight serenade, beneath the neon skies
You'll return, and pick up, where you laid it down
The phonograph, your loyal friend, through every spin around
It awaits your return, through the wind and the rain
Faithful guardian of memories, its duty the same
Faded frequency calling, through static and time
A beacon in the ruins, a lover's rhyme
Be still, and listen close, for your name
Revolutions waning, the sun will soon rise high
The workshop hushed again, the night's last sigh
The phonograph slows down, and in its silence sleeps
Until the dawn, when your hands may stir its dreaming deeps.
