You lean back on a rusted chair
Salty wind in your silver hair
The projector hums a heavy tune
Underneath a pale white moon
Dig deep in the silver screen soil
Where the old film reels start to coil
Hold the light till the morning glow
Watch the wild green ivy grow
You smell like oil and ancient heat
While the wild clover tastes so sweet
The screen is torn like a ragged dress
In a tangled garden mess
Call it Taraxacum on the floor
Right beside the booth's open door
The roots are drinking the midnight dew
And I am sitting here next to you
Dig deep in the silver screen soil
Where the old film reels start to coil
Hold the light till the morning glow
Watch the wild green ivy grow
The pedal steel cries a lonely chord
A rusted key and a wooden board
We are seeds in a concrete crack
Waiting for the movie to come back
The celluloid is a brittle vine
Tying your tired spirit to mine
Plant your feet in the cooling clay
Wait for the light of a brand new day
Dig deep in the silver screen soil
Where the old film reels start to coil
Hold the light till the morning glow
Watch the wild green ivy grow
Let the ivy grow
Let the ivy grow
(Group shout) Grow!
