Lyric

Tide in the sewer grates sings low

Neon tides that never go

Salt on the collar of the night

Your thumbs trace lines that feel like light

A crackle becomes a drumbeat slow

We let the static set the tempo

Signal salt on the city mouth

We taste the edges of the route

Listen to the brief transmission sing

And let the small tides start to bring

Waves of signal cross the street

We taste the static, sharp and sweet

Lines of light that pulse and sway

Carry us through the drifted gray

Brine on the rooftop, breath on glass

We map the places that have passed

Your laughter breaks like something caught

In the net of things we almost bought

The frequency bends toward the shore

We keep the summer under floor

Signal salt on the city mouth

We taste the edges of the route

Listen to the brief transmission sing

And let the small tides start to bring

A bending echo turns the air

A trembling glow we almost share

Frequency hums beneath our hands

We map the city in small strands

Tiny sparks of salted sound

Turn the quiet all around

A fading tide of distant hum

Soft waves whisper where we come