Track Insight / Lyrics
You stand where the black cables lean,
Watching the flicker on a screen.
The spruce trees are heavy and green,
The coldest sight you have ever seen.
You hold up a reel of old tape,
Looking for some kind of escape.
The cedar is cut in a shape,
A velvet and heavy grey drape.
Burn the film till the silver turns white,
Hold the ghost in a circle of light.
Spin the wheel in the dead of the night,
Keep the frame in your shaking sight.
The telephone poles mark the line,
You wait for a mystical sign.
The needles of pine start to twine,
Around every broken design.
Burn the film till the silver turns white,
Hold the ghost in a circle of light.
Spin the wheel in the dead of the night,
Keep the frame in your shaking sight.
The reel is a heavy iron weight,
You arrived at the forest too late.
The lock on the door is a gate,
Leaving your vision to fate.
You smell the burnt oil and the grease,
Waiting for the rattling to cease.
The wind is a cold winter fleece,
That offers a jagged release.
Your fingers are stained with the ink,
Standing on a dangerous brink.
The stars in the canopy blink,
While the heavy projectors sink.
Burn the film till the silver turns white,
Hold the ghost in a circle of light.
Spin the wheel in the dead of the night,
Keep the frame in your shaking sight.
Just a flicker in the pine.
Silver frame, silver line.
