You walk the deck where pine and pole align
The night shift hums a low diesel whine
Your fingers count each insulator sign
Morning waits past the headland pine
Telegraph pines cut the sky in two
Wires sing loud when the fog rolls through
You're the ghost who knows the route by heart
Steel and salt never let you part
Gull cries stitch the dark to dawn's first gray
Chain locker clanks as the cables pay
Your eyes scan deep for the channel mark
Home port lights blink through the spruce bark
Telegraph pines cut the sky in two
Wires sing loud when the fog rolls through
You're the ghost who knows the route by heart
Steel and salt never let you part
Radio static cracks the wheelhouse glass
You tap the rhythm on the steel railing
Watch the hour hand spin too damn fast
Shift change comes with the seabirds wailing
Telegraph pines cut the sky in two
Wires sing loud when the fog rolls through
You're the ghost who knows the route by heart
Steel and salt never let you part
No passengers here, just freight and foam
The forest edge writes its name in chrome
You've memorized every knot and span
This floating world fits in your hand
Dawn paints the needles gold on telegraph wire
Morning breakers crash on the bow and pier
You coil the last line, shoulders broad and square
Another crossing logged in salt-stained air
Telegraph pines cut the sky in two
Wires sing loud when the fog rolls through
You're the ghost who knows the route by heart
Steel and salt never let you part
Telegraph pines, yeah, they're part of you
Spring reverb fades on the final mile
