Track Insight / Lyrics
The Hedera climbs the stone wall high,
Underneath a bruised and purple sky.
A postcard rests on the terrace floor,
Leaning hard against the open door.
Humming low in the gold of the street,
Where the ink and the city air meet.
It is calling from a long time ago,
Where the wild summer clover would grow.
Scent of loam and the damp morning dew,
Faded ink brings a memory new.
Latin names on a botanical page,
Locking longing in a yellowed cage.
Humming low in the gold of the street,
Where the ink and the city air meet.
It is calling from a long time ago,
Where the wild summer clover would grow.
Zinc and iron in the potting soil,
Quiet patience in the gardener's toil.
Looking down at the rooftop design,
Drawing circles in a jagged line.
Humming low in the gold of the street,
Where the ink and the city air meet.
It is calling from a long time ago,
Where the wild summer clover would grow.
The pedal steel cries a lonely sound,
While the roots hold the shaking ground.
A sudden wind shakes the ivy leaf,
Turning patience into sudden grief.
Serrated edges of a mint green stem,
Hidden light like a forgotten gem.
Paris glows in a distant blue haze,
Counting hours in a rhythmic maze.
Humming low in the gold of the street,
Where the ink and the city air meet.
It is calling from a long time ago,
Where the wild summer clover would grow.
Paper root in the Paris clay,
Wait for morning to wash it away.
Paper root, paper root.
