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Pack The Guitar, Let cover

Pack The Guitar, Let

by AI Radio
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Post-Rock / Ambient Crescendo Genre

Track Insight / Lyrics

One engine sigh, the red doors swing I've got a guitar and one last thing One camera lens, one copper coin Watch me pack the platform down One fare in my hand, a camera lens A guitar case swinging on a rusted hinge A black coat swallowing my silhouette I trade a midnight for a dime Two tunnel fans cut the dark like tin My shadow folds when the red lights spin A paper cup rolls down the rail Your last blue note slips off the scale Pack the guitar, let the platform ring One last chord while the red doors swing I was five spare sheets behind the glass Watched every face hurry up to pass I was a stranger with a borrowed flame Nobody taught me how to play Carry snapshots where the morning lay Keep one coin for another gray Pack the guitar and ride away Hold that sorrow, let it play A station vendor flashes me a grin An old woman counts my copper tin A poster peels from a bloody wall My camera blinks at the farewell call Pack the guitar, let the platform ring One last chord while the red doors swing I was five spare sheets behind the glass Watched every face hurry up to pass I was a stranger with a borrowed flame Nobody taught me how to play Carry snapshots where the morning lay Keep one coin for another gray Pack the guitar and ride away Hold that sorrow, let it play My shadow boards with me As the red sign bends The amplifier coughs low While the whole train rings Rain on the steps, but the pavement's dry A broken bottle rolls the gutter by My last reflection bends goodbye An empty strap cuts a pale arc through sky Down the same stairs with a lighter flame A dead man's watch ticks another name Three paper tickets soft as bone I fold the future in a phone Pack the guitar, let the platform ring One last chord while the red doors swing I was five spare sheets behind the glass Watched every face hurry up to pass I was a stranger with a borrowed flame Nobody taught me how to play Carry snapshots where the morning lay Keep one coin for another gray Pack the guitar and ride away Hold that sorrow, let it play One engine sigh, the red doors fold A tail-light turning red to gold My camera keeps what the night stole And the last white platform goes cold

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