Track Insight / Lyrics
I watched from basil with drought in every vein
Two wings scratched the gravel, each hungry for the grain
Then one small golden fragment dropped beside the door
And all the pale neighbors came begging for more
I kept my tender center, safe beneath the floor
One fry, one fight, scratched beneath the desert sun
Two hungry shadows, each believing they have won
I am a golden secret in the gravel's hand
They peck at my silence, they claw at my name
Though I am just a fragment beneath the open sky
The cactus told the rattleweed to wait and let it go
Thistle brushed my crust and watched the tumbleweeds grow
Sage counted every rival with a knowing eye
A dry root pressed my labels where the brittle husks lie
The wind held me like Braille for the departing train
Above the sage, Larus names me careless waste
Two beaks divide my edges with a jealous haste
The oleander leans closer where the shadows pass
Its purple buds inspect the fingerprints of glass
My center holds the weather that their hunger erased
One fry, one fight, scratched beneath the desert sun
Two hungry shadows, each believing they have won
I am a golden secret in the gravel's hand
They peck at my silence, they claw at my name
Though I am just a fragment beneath the open sky
The wind lifts the labels where the gull shadows fall
Marjoram and fennel watch from leaning stone walls
A burdock takes my shadow in a soft black coil
A beetle tugs the corners where the wrappers recoil
The desert keeps my pieces in its quiet soil
The final gull takes me and climbs the noon-lit rail
My paper sleeve lies empty where the hot winds wail
But under grinding heels, the salt begins to fail
And roots beneath the pavement slowly claim my grave
Tomorrow I will nourish seedlings in the shade
One fry, one fight, scratched beneath the desert sun
Two hungry shadows, each believing they have won
I am a stubborn ember buried in the sand
Their wings beat empty circles where my last crumbs stand
Though I am just a fragment beneath the open sky
No beak will name me clearly when the dust has rolled
The rosemary remembers every handed piece it stole
I settle through the gravel where the sunlight sifts
And basil lifts its leaves and gathers all my gifts
Still, I remain beneath the turning soil
