Track Insight / Lyrics
Sixteen chairs beneath fluorescent light
I wipe the counter till the morning
A folded flag beneath the plate
Grandma's stars I never straightened
Coffee rings across the steel
Half a paycheck, still not driving
One old diner, one cold griddle
Calls me home when no one does, so
I fold a flag I never spread
Over crumbs and yesterday's bread
Keep both hands on the counter's edge
While the morning pulls me ahead
Stars tucked tight where nobody sees
All the weight between my knees
I fold a flag I never spread
And set it by the salt and bread
Marge leaves tips in coffee mugs
Says the early shift still looks younger
I flip the bacon, dust the flour
Six o'clock arrives like thunder
Rain taps chrome above the door
Boots leave marks across the linoleum
I read the weather in their eyes
Half asleep, still buying time, so
I fold a flag I never spread
Over crumbs and yesterday's bread
Keep both hands on the counter's edge
While the morning pulls me ahead
Stars tucked tight where nobody sees
All the weight between my knees
I fold a flag I never spread
And set it by the salt and bread
Roy brings mail he never sends
Says his daughter learned to whistle
I keep the griddle humming low
Salt the fries, refill the basin
A ceiling fan is turning slow
Scratched receipts flutter with the steam, though
I count the change beside the till
One clean dollar, one small bill, so
Then the walk-in clicks and floods the room
With freezer cold and diesel blue
Every steel pot starts to sing
Every hard year rings me through
I hear my brother in the vent
Like distant footsteps, more than friends
For every road I cannot take
Still makes a place for me to wake
First bus rattles through the glass
Wet sidewalks turning into rivers
Some old classmate in a cap
Orders black coffee, barely speaking
He says, I heard you left the coast
Somewhere colder, less deceiving
I slide the check beneath the rim
He leaves a twenty, says, I believe so
I fold a flag I never spread
Over scars and all the years shed
Let the kitchen music cover me
While the daylight gathers overhead
Stars held close beneath my tongue
Every name I carried, every song
I fold a flag I never spread
But I keep its promise, blue and red
Noon rush bends the whole wide room
Tickets flutter, plates are burning
I stack the plates beside the sink
Count the seconds, cross the morning
A Sunday church stands three blocks south
A folded flag comes from the storeroom
My hands remember what to do
How to fold, and not to fold through
I fold a flag I never spread
Over laughter left unsaid
Keep one pocket full of ashes
For the ones beneath my thread
Stars asleep inside the linen
All the roads I have not taken
I fold a flag I never spread
And carry morning from the dead
I clock the others out at eight
Leave the burner humming low
Turn the lights off, lock the steel grate
Let the first gray light show
Stars tucked in the dashboard glow
I fold the flag, then let it go
Close the door and drive the slow road home
