Track Insight / Lyrics
I hang from the beam rust
kissed shadows flatten on the glassy water
The red hull wakes, a heartbeat in brass, its propellers whispering 4200 rpm,
Its captain a silhouette black jacket
slick boots a red glove over palm
I cradle the tide's breath, watching gulls paint ink on the slate sky before dawn.
[Pre-
Sidewalks empty, yet the river breathes a lo‑fi bass line drifting through the harbor,
The baritone sax blooms in the distance, notes dripping like lantern light on eelgrass,
String quartet murmurs in low strings, each pluck a memory of choir loft lullabies,
I feel the tug's pulse repeat through my splintered boards, a hymn of iron and salt.
It's a red tug, stubborn as a lit candle in a fogged window,
Its chipped paint tells stories of nights
when the moon became a wet tooth
Steam curls like a baritone throat, thickening the air, tightening strings,
Every pulse a syllable of a prayer I never sang but always heard.
The harbor wakes, whispering to the dock's fingertips,
Cable threads hum like rusted hymnnotes, a low hum in the silence,
I scrape the grain, memory of altos ringing through my joints,
The tug's own anchor drifts, surrendering to time's patient drum.
[Final-
I watch each paddle cut the water like a choir's crescendo,
The red hull catches the moon's pale violin, a single, aching note,
In the hush before sunrise I
cradle its swing letting the sax fade
Savvy, stubborn tug, your rhythm is forever etched in my weathered frame.
