Salt cracks the skin on working hands
Brass lamp gleams on shifting sands
Quarter drops in plastic slot
Pixel waves give all they got
Leather waits in synth glow
Patient as the depths below
Fingers stiff from north wind bite
Holding dark through arcade night
Cabinet hums in basement deep
Promises the machine won't keep
Joystick worn by thousand grips
Neon burns through finger tips
Leather waits in synth glow
Patient as the depths below
Fingers stiff from north wind bite
Holding dark through arcade night
Tide chart marked in grease pencil lines
Beacon cuts through harbor pines
High score flashes three initials
Ghost ships dock in digital signals
Leather waits in synth glow
Patient as the depths below
Fingers stiff from north wind bite
Holding dark through arcade night
Storm warning on the radio
Quarter slots won't let us go
Waves break on the pixel shore
We don't play to win no more
Morning cracks the boardwalk glass
First bus rides the overpass
Gloves rest on the control panel
Dreams of sea in circuit channel
Leather waits in synth glow
Patient as the depths below
Fingers stiff from north wind bite
Holding dark through arcade night
Leather waits in synth glow
Patient as the depths below
Light sweeps slow across the bay
Machine sleeps till next quarter day
Gloves hold warm the player's heat
Tide returns on quiet street
