Track Insight / Lyrics
Three eggs, canned peaches, coffee, white flour, salt
A grocery list written where the evening turns pale
The keeper folds the paper, grabs his keys, and leaves
At four the gallery smells of coffee, tar, and salt
She checks the wick box, signs the weather on the wall
Two eggs, canned peaches, coffee, white flour for the bread
Pencil, batteries, and matches, two gallons for the car
A wool glove hangs crooked; diesel stains the sill
Her spare key rattles, resting where the dusk lay still
He writes by the window where the tired sea sleeps
Two eggs, coffee dark, and gasoline to keep
Flour, salt, and batteries, while the dawn moves fast
Three dollars for a letter from a summer past
Pack the list, call the harbor, ring the bell, then go
Down gravel switchbacks where the harbor lamps glow
She pockets diesel pay, one tide-stained dollar bill
Her boots strike gravel; every engine screams and thrills
Flashlight, shoestrings, licorice, and a waxed-paper horn
A box of chalk is wrapped in newspaper, corners worn
The ferry horn cuts through the fog beyond the dune
She races past beach grass underneath the leaning moon
He writes by the windows where the restless sea sleeps
Two eggs, coffee dark, and a gallon to keep
Flour, salt, and batteries, while the first stars burn
Three cents for a postcard from the roads that turn
Pack the list, call the harbor, make the taillights go
Down stuttering asphalt where the distant windows glow
Bell-buoy clappers rattle from the channel outside
Whitecaps slap the dock posts; diesel mist has fried
Rice, clean socks, and aspirin are packed beside the door
Sour cherry candy in a jar beside the emergency flare
The blue kettle whistles as the cupboard door swings wide
A storm is dragging silver over fields beside the tide
He checks off the pencil marks beneath a restless sky
Two eggs, coffee dark, and a spare dry coat to dry
Flour, salt, and batteries, while the headland burns red
Three lines cross out a warning from the lighthouse ledger
Pack the list, call the harbor, tell the night to go
Across flooded asphalt where the crooked crossbars glow
No moon in the harbor, only rain against the glass
A truck tire bursts; he patches it beside the gasoline can
The grocery list trembles where his compass is pinned
Flashlight, shoestrings, licorice, wrapped in plastic thin
He parks beside the dunes; the beacon cuts the cloud
A shutter slams; the groceries are scattered in the road
He writes by the headlights where the sleepless sea heaves
Two eggs, coffee dark, and a promise not to leave
Flour, salt, and batteries, while the sunrise breaks fast
Three words on a flour sack: love, come home, hold fast
Pack the list, ring the harbor, raise the heavy latch
The keeper grabs the basket and the dawn, then catches
Flour on his sleeve, diesel beneath every nail
The grocery list lies open where the first sunlight falls
He runs toward the lighthouse with the sunrise in his hands
