Brown ribbon curled in the heat
Salt air and the smell of the street
Left by the bridge in the sand
Slipped from a shaking hand
Magnetic tape on a coastal road
Carrying a heavy load
Spinning slow in a plastic shell
Stories that we used to tell
Worn out edges, frayed and thin
Where the summer days begin
Salty spray on the dashboard glass
Watching all the tourists pass
Magnetic tape on a coastal road
Carrying a heavy load
Spinning slow in a plastic shell
Stories that we used to tell
Screeching sound of a warped low end
Broken lines we couldn't mend
Sunk in the dirt by the rail
A faded map, a paper trail
Magnetic tape on a coastal road
Carrying a heavy load
Spinning slow in a plastic shell
Stories that we used to tell
Hiss and hum in the midnight air
Tangled knots and a vacant stare
Press the button, hear the click
The clock is ticking way too quick
Now the tide washes over the shore
We don't need those songs anymore
Buried deep in the silver grit
A little spark, a final hit
Magnetic tape on a coastal road
Carrying a heavy load
Spinning slow in a plastic shell
Stories that we used to tell
Just a spool in the coastal sand.
Slipped away from a shaking hand.
Spinning slow.
Spinning slow.