Lyrics
[Intro] [Verse] Fluorescent hum in the midnight aisle Stacking the cans with a tired smile Found the journal in a dusty pile Been sitting there for a long-long while Graphite ghosts on a yellow page Working for the minimum wage Turning the lock on a golden cage Acting my part on a humble stage Pop had a way with the heavy pine Drawing a straight and a narrow line Tracing the grain of a grand design Trying to make the rough edges fine Now I’m the one with the pencil lead Counting the things that he never said Measuring life by the spirit fed Instead of the debt and the daily bread [Break] [Verse] Old Man Jenkins wants a pack of Kools Life is a box of his broken tools We are the sons of the public schools Breaking the bread and the ancient rules I fix the shelf with a shaky grip Watching the oil and the water drip Inherited habits that start to slip Like a ghost on a sinking merchant ship I see the grease on his denim vest Putting the hammer and nail to rest He passed the burden and failed the test But he left the heart inside the chest Now the light starts to shift and glow Watching the seeds of the garden grow I reap the rhythm of what I sow And finally find a place to go [Bridge] It’s more than the wood and the steel It’s how the heavy vibrations feel Turning the rust on the iron wheel Making the silent agreement real I’m not a ghost in a machine I’m the color in between the green Seeing the things that are never seen Keeping the workspace sharp and clean [Verse] Bodega bells chime a gospel chord More than a clerk with a cardboard board I am the pen and the sharpened sword Finding the peace I can now afford I finish the sketch in the margin space Finding the lines of my father’s face Running the final and lonely race With a little bit of steady grace No longer bound by the things I lack Taking the heavy and rusted pack I’m never looking or turning back Following a brand new golden track [Outro]
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