Track Insight / Lyrics
I wake to salt spray on
the old firebrick counter chalk still dry
The bar stool bears a ghost's tattoo of a swallowed beer.
I pour a single cold shot, the hiss of steam off the cracked glass.
Outside, the tide pushes a gull's wing, so alone.
The jukebox sits like a rusted cymbal in the corner stutter.
I cut a vinyl, the needle quivers, a trumpet hum in the dusk.
The regular sits at the far end, his hat hanging like a rope.
He hums a tune about the lighthouse he once kept, years before.
It's winter's wind that sighs through the window, my reminder of waves.
I'm here, a beat of the night, pointing the last pint to a stubborn man.
The deck of this bar feels like
sea foam on my boots washing ashore
He says he hears gulls in the whiskey and knows where the tide will pretend.
In the dim the lamp flickers like
a weathered lantern left on a pier
My hands calloused from years tight
on a rope steady his chipped glass
The trumpet sighs once more, a low note rolling over the water.
I wish the night was an anchor, but it drifts away in wind's lull.
It's winter's wind that sighs through the window, my reminder of waves.
I'm here a beat of the night
pointing the last pint to a stubborn man
The deck of this bar feels like
sea foam on my boots washing ashore
He says he hears gulls in the whiskey and knows where the tide will pretend.
