Cured in oil and heavy weight
Resting by the garden gate
Tossed aside on sandy grit
Where the coastal highway hit
Glass is clouded by the spray
Turning gold to dull and gray
Waiting for a steady hand
Far above the tidal sand
Looking for a distant spark
Cutting through the heavy dark
Brass and salt upon the stone
Watching all the roads alone
Concrete pillars hold the ride
High above the rushing tide
Salty wind and diesel fumes
Where the wild sea clover blooms
Glass is clouded by the spray
Turning gold to dull and gray
Waiting for a steady hand
Far above the tidal sand
Looking for a distant spark
Cutting through the heavy dark
Brass and salt upon the stone
Watching all the roads alone
Rusty bolts and peeling paint
Hope is growing thin and faint
Copper rings are turning green
Smallest lens you've ever seen
A single turn of polished screw
Brings the hidden planets true
One sharp look at silver light
Before the world slips into night
Looking for a distant spark
Cutting through the heavy dark
Brass and salt upon the stone
Watching all the roads alone
Tires hum a steady beat
Passing by the summer heat
Nobody stops to take a glance
Giving luck a second chance
Looking for a distant spark
Cutting through the heavy dark
Brass and salt upon the stone
Watching all the roads alone
Just a lens in salty air.
Waiting for a wanderer there.