He carries reels of faded black
A heavy load upon his back
The fog rolls in from golden gate
He stands alone and accepts fate
He plays the film for empty sand
A broken light in a shaking hand
The movie spins in a silver haze
Lost in a reel of the olden days
The salty air eats through the gear
The only sound that he can hear
Is the clicking wheel of a rusted drive
Keeping a ghost of a dream alive
He plays the film for empty sand
A broken light in a shaking hand
The movie spins in a silver haze
Lost in a reel of the olden days
The pier is wet with a morning dew
The greyish sky has a frozen hue
He watches stars on a linen sheet
While cold Atlantic water meets his feet
He plays the film for empty sand
A broken light in a shaking hand
The movie spins in a silver haze
Lost in a reel of the olden days
The celluloid is thin and torn
A lonely man since the day was born
He keeps the focus on a distant face
Trapped in a loop in a hollow place
The projector hums a low steady tune
Under the ghost of a pale white moon
One final frame before the tape will break
A heavy heart for a memory's sake
He packs the tripod in a leather case
A weathered look on a tired face
The tide comes in to wash the image clean
Leaving the shore as a vacant scene
He plays the film for empty sand
A broken light in a shaking hand
The movie spins in a silver haze
Lost in a reel of the olden days
Silver screen pier.
The movie ends here.
(Steel guitar fade)
