White glaze chipped on the rim side.
Left here for a long ride.
Plastic table, gray and old.
Morning air is biting cold.
I am just a ceramic cup.
Waiting for a hand to pick up.
Stained with oil and burnt bean brew.
Waiting for a ghost of you.
Salty breeze from the west coast.
Half a plate of buttered toast.
Sand is sticking to my base.
Static humming in this place.
I am just a ceramic cup.
Waiting for a hand to pick up.
Stained with oil and burnt bean brew.
Waiting for a ghost of you.
Brake lights flashing in the heat.
Tires humming on the street.
Metal keys on a wooden tray.
Nobody is here to stay.
I am just a ceramic cup.
Waiting for a hand to pick up.
Stained with oil and burnt bean brew.
Waiting for a ghost of you.
Hard ceramic, heavy weight.
Left alone to meet a fate.
Cold as ice in the desert glare.
Empty handle, empty stare.
Check-out bell with a rusty ring.
Summer wind begins to sing.
One more drip of bitter black.
Knowing that you won't come back.
I am just a ceramic cup.
Waiting for a hand to pick up.
Stained with oil and burnt bean brew.
Waiting for a ghost of you.
Just a cup on the porch.
Cold ceramic.
Cold ceramic.
