Track Insight / Lyrics
You stroll the cracked concrete, a quiet root in sparse earth.
The lights dim, but it's your bark still hums like *Cistus monspeliensis*.
Time drips from the beams, a slow drip like acacia nectar.
You breathe the hush, balancing patience with the scent of rust.
I talk to the grass, *Spiraea domestica*, coaxing it to stretch toward the neon sky.
You rustle like a violin's strings your
leaves chewing on the ember of yesterday's crowd
You smell of fresh soil after the set, a calm seep from chipped concrete.
And I count the petals of a roadside daisy, waiting for the next sunrise.
You wander between the parked cars, a lone vine reaching for the moonlit glass.
Echoes linger in the asphalt, a quiet mutter from *Quercus robur*.
Your leaves breathe slow and steady
like the pulse of distant drums
You stay patient, bearing the night while the parking lot sleeps.
The neon lights flicker out, and I plant a small seed by the parking meter.
Your whispers fade into the hum of the night, but the roots cling in the gravel.
I watch you grow a canopy of
tiny stems pushing toward the static sky
We will meet again when the gates open and sunlight shakes the old vines.
