Track Insight / Lyrics
You stand at the cliff, salt on your cheek,
The lighthouse beam washes over old stone.
Ants in line, crumb in hand, hill at sunrise,
They push, they pause, without a word.
The sea slaps the rocks with a steady drum,
Each ant's footsteps echo in your palm.
Breadcrumb clings to their shoulders like a flag,
They climb the slope, a steady thin train.
You hear the kalimba flicker at dusk,
A whisper through shafts of glass, metallic grace.
They lift, they haul, a humble path up the hill,
Like a storm's hush over the night tide.
The electric hum of the lamp flies above,
Its glow pens each stride in gleaming light.
You watch as they climb, their shadows etched against crags,
Each link a torch, each move a promise.
You feel the shimmer of their work, a quiet glow,
The beat of their march turning to music in your ear.
They hold the crumb high, a tiny peak in the mist,
You know the finish is near, and you listen.
