Track Insight / Lyrics
Sweep the lot with a heavy wrist
Salt the dark like a bacon kiss
Projector's dead but the screen stays white
I serve the glow through the dead of night
Weeds push up through the cracked asphalt
Rust eats the speaker, the post, the bolt
No Buicks idling, no teens in the back
Just me and the beam cutting through the black
I'm the cook and the bulb is my grill
Frying shadows until they stand still
No ticket stubs for this midnight show
Just static snow in a horizontal flow
Remember the honk of a '59 Ford
Grease on the glass, steam on the board
I caught the smoke from a thousand cigs
Now I catch dust on my aluminum rigs
I'm the cook and the bulb is my grill
Frying shadows until they stand still
No ticket stubs for this midnight show
Just static snow in a horizontal flow
Motor groans like a fryer on clean
Gears turn slow in the guillotine
Dawn cracks the horizon, eggs on the pan
Light pulls the plug on the projection man
Speaker poles lean like tired waitresses
Holding trays of forgotten addresses
The snack bar's a ruin, the popcorn's cold
Stories untouched, never getting old
Shift bell rings with a solar flare
Wipe down the lens with a cotton square
Another night on the graveyard run
Signing off 'til the setting sun
I'm the cook and the bulb is my grill
Frying shadows until they stand still
No ticket stubs for this midnight show
Just static snow in a horizontal flow
Burn the image, sear the screen
Brightest grease that you've ever seen
Order up, the dark is done
Screen burn lingers when I'm gone
