Track Insight / Lyrics
He sits by the rust of a broken machine,
The tallest grass grows in a velvet shade of green.
He talks to the beetles that crawl on the stone,
A king in a kingdom he governs alone.
I drive by the workshop and slow down the gear,
The scent of old diesel is all that I hear.
He looks through the window with eyes like a haze,
Counting the hours and the length of the days.
Oh, the tide comes to visit the backyard tonight,
Turning the clover to a shimmering white.
He sails on a porch swing while the anchor is cast,
Holding a ghost from a long buried past.
He tells me of currents that pull from the deep,
Of secrets the cold Atlantic will keep.
The garden is overgrown, tangled and wild,
The mind of a sailor, the heart of a child.
Oh, the tide comes to visit the backyard tonight,
Turning the clover to a shimmering white.
He sails on a porch swing while the anchor is cast,
Holding a ghost from a long buried past.
The wind is a map that he reads in the air,
A map to a harbor that is no longer there.
The workshop is quiet, the tools are all still,
The water is rising on the crest of the hill.
I offer a cigarette, a ride to the town,
He watches the autumn leaves fluttering down.
He says that the weather is turning to gold,
A story that never quite gets to be told.
The salt on his skin is a crust from the spray,
He drifts in the garden at the end of the day.
The weeds are the waves and the fence is the shore,
He doesn't seek harbors or oceans anymore.
Oh, the tide comes to visit the backyard tonight,
Turning the clover to a shimmering white.
He sails on a porch swing while the anchor is cast,
Holding a ghost from a long buried past.
The anchor is cast in the clover.
The long voyage is finally over.
