Pinus sylvestris holds the line
Where the copper wires intertwine
Brown plastic ribbon in the clay
Tangled where the deer like to stray
Oxidized iron in the loam
Calling a wandering signal home
Heavy on the needle and the gear
Waiting for the music to appear
Spin the black tape in the gold
Stories that the needles told
Caught in the roots of the pine
Lost in a magnetic line
Silty soil clings to the reel
Cold as a piece of rusted steel
Old analog ghost in the dirt
Wearing a label, stained and curt
Oxidized iron in the loam
Calling a wandering signal home
Heavy on the needle and the gear
Waiting for the music to appear
Spin the black tape in the gold
Stories that the needles told
Caught in the roots of the pine
Lost in a magnetic line
Sloanea roots wrap round the case
Holding the memory in its place
Telephone poles stand tall and grey
Watching the plastic rot away
Pull the string from the needle's eye
Under a wide and heavy sky
Tug on the thread and feel the snap
Caught in a forest sonic trap
Spin the black tape in the gold
Stories that the needles told
Caught in the roots of the pine
Lost in a magnetic line
Botanist hands brush off the grit
Looking for a place where it might fit
Latin names written on the page
A sonic relic from another age
Spin the black tape in the gold
Stories that the needles told
Caught in the roots of the pine
Lost in a magnetic line
Magnetic line Magnetic line
In the pine
In the pine