Track Insight / Lyrics
Fog rolls thick on rusted steel tracks
He sets up his rig on splintered ties
Carbon arcs spit white electric cracks
Silver beams cut through the low disguise
Night shift cook would call this order wise
Midnight projector spins its tale
Boxcars become frames of pale light
Whistle blows a dying exhale
Reels turn slow in the yard tonight
Midnight projector burns so bright
Hand-crank motor coughs like old diesel
Lens cap off, the gate swings wide
Each car a celluloid missile
Faces flicker on the metal side
Coffee black, no sugar, let it ride
Midnight projector spins its tale
Boxcars become frames of pale light
Whistle blows a dying exhale
Reels turn slow in the yard tonight
Midnight projector burns so bright
He screens the wreck of ninety-four
Where Maggie lost her wedding band
The engineer who walked out the door
Left his watch half-buried in the sand
Regulars know the story by heart, man
Midnight projector spins its tale
Boxcars become frames of pale light
Whistle blows a dying exhale
Reels turn slow in the yard tonight
Midnight projector burns so bright
Dawn cracks grey on the signal tower
Film runs out, the bulb gutters low
He packs the cans, checks the hour
Fog eats the images, row by row
Tip left on the counter, time to go
Midnight projector spins its tale
Boxcars become frames of pale light
Whistle blows a dying exhale
Reels turn slow in the yard tonight
Midnight projector burns so bright
Reel clicks empty. Fog holds the frame.
