Wet boots on the checkered floor
I don't come around here anymore
The smell of bleach and old soap suds
Tearing through my heavy floods
The dryers hum a low gray tune
Underneath a hidden moon
I check the dial on my wrist
A frequency I almost missed
Spinning in a circle slow
Watching all the water go
Static on the radio line
Waiting for a perfect sign
The rain is hitting like a drum
My frozen fingers feeling numb
I see a ghost in machine four
Pacing by the sliding door
Spinning in a circle slow
Watching all the water go
Static on the radio line
Waiting for a perfect sign
Squeezing out the heavy cold
Stories that were never told
One more turn of the rusted wheel
Something that I finally feel
I flip the switch to clear the air
Searching for a signal there
A crackle then a sudden break
A memory I can't forsake
Coffee stains on a plastic seat
Treading on the lonely beat
The cycle ends with one loud chime
Stopping all the wasted time
Spinning in a circle slow
Watching all the water go
Static on the radio line
Waiting for a perfect sign
Static in the spin.
The signal's coming in.
Just a perfect sign.
