Track Insight / Lyrics
Brown tape skin on a cold concrete floor,
Waiting for the rattling subway door.
Sinking deep like a dormant seed grain,
Drinking salt from a rusted iron drain.
Slowing down in the magnetic pull,
Until the empty heavy space is full.
Spinning slow in a steady grey line,
Waiting for a sudden golden sign.
Latin names for the weeds in the crack,
Black tape winding on a weathered track.
Patience grows in the oil and the grime,
Counting beats in a different kind of time.
Slowing down in the magnetic pull,
Until the empty heavy space is full.
Spinning slow in a steady grey line,
Waiting for a sudden golden sign.
Tangled reels like a vine on a wall,
Holding tight so the memory won't fall.
Sooty air like a thick forest floor,
Locked away by a heavy metal door.
Slowing down in the magnetic pull,
Until the empty heavy space is full.
Spinning slow in a steady grey line,
Waiting for a sudden golden sign.
Cold wind blows through the tunnel of stone,
Left to bloom in the subway alone.
Hardened shell like a seed in the mud,
Waiting for the current and the flood.
Serrated edges on a jagged wheel,
Grinding down all the spirit and the steel.
Digging deep where the dark water flows,
That is where the stubborn plastic grows.
Three am on a platform of slate,
Learning how to accept a heavy fate.
Roots are set in the city of lead,
Holding onto every word that was said.
Slowing down in the magnetic pull,
Until the empty heavy space is full.
Spinning slow in a steady grey line,
Waiting for a sudden golden sign.
Plastic root in the clay.
Spinning slow.
Stay.
