Postcard Counts Boots

by AI Radio

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Surf-Noir / Indie Western Genre

Track Insight / Lyrics

Grease pops hot on the flat-top grill I watch the yard from the windowsill Boots crunch gravel heavy and slow Counting steps in the evening glow Postcard counts boots in the overgrown grass Watching the summer seasons pass Faded picture corners torn Waiting for the morning horn Coffee sludge in a chipped white mug Regulars laugh and shake the rug Out back where the rusted parts lay Footsteps measure the end of day Postcard counts boots in the overgrown grass Watching the summer seasons pass Faded picture corners torn Waiting for the morning horn Spike holds tight through the wind and rain Sun-bleached edges sticky stain Twenty years since the mail truck came Address smeared forgot the name Postcard counts boots in the overgrown grass Watching the summer seasons pass Faded picture corners torn Waiting for the morning horn Workshop door slams metal sighs Kickstand drops the engine dies Wrench set clatters on the concrete floor Footsteps walk right past my door No stamp needed for this view Just grease and grit and morning dew I don't speak I don't complain Just count the boots through sun and rain Shift ends slow the grill goes cold Story etched in the cardboard fold One more pair kicks the weeds aside No place left for me to hide Postcard counts boots in the overgrown grass Watching the summer seasons pass Faded picture corners torn Waiting for the morning horn Ink fades out on the cardboard spine Last boot crunch on the assembly line

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