Track Insight / Lyrics
Empty swings hang in the grey,
Autumn leaves have blown away.
Steel beams whisper, cold and slow,
Where the laughter used to flow.
Old man Hemlock, weathered and worn,
Watches seasons silently born.
Collects his pennies, a rustling sound,
For a park that's lost, never found.
He sees the ghosts of children race,
Lost in time and empty space.
Toll booth ghosts in the fading light,
Counting shadows through the night.
A carousel's echo, a distant plea,
Just Hemlock and memory.
The gate stays closed, the joy is gone,
Another autumn moving on.
The Ferris wheel, a skeletal frame,
Whispers secrets, calls each name.
He remembers faces, bright and bold,
Stories whispered, never told.
Each chipped paint fleck, a faded kiss,
Lost in the autumn's mist.
Toll booth ghosts in the fading light,
Counting shadows through the night.
A carousel's echo, a distant plea,
Just Hemlock and memory.
The gate stays closed, the joy is gone,
Another autumn moving on.
He polishes glass, a pointless task,
Behind the booth, a lonely mask.
The wind howls a mournful, hollow tune,
Beneath the pale October moon.
He speaks to sparrows, a quiet grace,
A silent smile upon his face.
The park sleeps under blankets of brown,
No laughter, no bustling town.
Just the weight of years, a heavy sigh,
As golden hours drift slowly by.
He keeps the vigil, steadfast and true,
For dreams that faded, me and you.
A single headlight cuts the haze,
A late-night traveler in a daze.
Hemlock waves, a phantom hand,
Across this forgotten, empty land.
They pay their toll, and quickly flee,
Leaving Hemlock with his memory.
Toll booth ghosts in the fading light,
Counting shadows through the night.
A carousel's echo, a distant plea,
Just Hemlock and memory.
The gate stays closed, the joy is gone,
Another autumn moving on.
He checks his watch, the hour grows late,
Sealed by destiny, sealed by fate.
Another day done, another year,
Washing away every tear.
The park is dreaming, soft and deep,
While Hemlock watches, secrets to keep.
Toll booth ghosts in the fading light,
Counting shadows through the night.
A carousel's echo, a distant plea,
Just Hemlock and memory.
The gate stays closed, the joy is gone,
Another autumn moving on.
Empty swings creak in the breeze,
Rustling through the autumn trees.
The toll booth waits, a silent sign,
Lost in the mists of passing time.
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