Track Insight / Lyrics
Dust motes dance in fading light,
Steel paws press, a lonely sight.
Each footfall whispers on the snow,
Watching shadows come and go.
Old man Hemlock's orchard sleeps,
Frozen branches, winter keeps.
I count the steps, a hollow beat,
Lost souls wandering down the street.
A weary hunter, gone astray,
Wishing for a brighter day.
One, two, three, the rhythm calls,
Footsteps falling, orchard walls.
Four, five, six, a silent plea,
Just another ghost for me.
Echoes linger, soft and low,
Watching where the cold winds blow.
The cider press, a rusted frame,
Remembers laughter, calls my name.
She used to hang her coat right here,
Wipe away a falling tear.
He'd bring apples, sweet and bright,
Now just darkness fills the night.
One, two, three, the rhythm calls,
Footsteps falling, orchard walls.
Four, five, six, a silent plea,
Just another ghost for me.
Echoes linger, soft and low,
Watching where the cold winds blow.
Each passing stride, a memory shown,
Of promises whispered, seeds that were sown.
A chipped blue mug, a coffee stain,
Wishing things could be the same again.
The woodsmoke curls, a fading trace,
Lost in time and empty space.
One, two, three, the rhythm calls,
Footsteps falling, orchard walls.
Four, five, six, a silent plea,
Just another ghost for me.
Echoes linger, soft and low,
Watching where the cold winds blow.
The snow keeps falling, soft and white,
Covering secrets from the light.
These lonely paths, I know them well,
A winter's story they compel.
A hollow ache, a distant chime,
Lost in the passing of time.
The farmhouse windows, dark and bare,
No warmth inside, no loving care.
I trace the steps, a silent guide,
Where happiness used to reside.
A broken swing, a rusted chain,
Whispering a forgotten name.
One, two, three, the rhythm calls,
Footsteps falling, orchard walls.
Four, five, six, a silent plea,
Just another ghost for me.
Echoes linger, soft and low,
Watching where the cold winds blow.
Seven, eight, the darkness nears,
Washing away all hopes and fears.
Ten, eleven, a final sigh,
Beneath the cold December sky.
The orchard sleeps, the echoes cease,
Finding a quiet, frozen peace.
