Archivist Workbench v3.0

INDEX

Lyrics:

I hold a ghost inside my hand
A habit that I never planned
The tingle rises, sharp and cold
A story that was never told
I’ve chased the vapor, held the light
But this is different in the night

Oh, oh
Strange visions of a tin
Colors flashing on the paper-thin skin
A habit I never choose
Burning my nose

Dust on my thumb, the stinging grace
I see a stranger’s smiling face
(Is it me?)
Is it me?

Was I a hero then?
Was I a boy,
Was I a different sort of man?

It’s a memory from a different life
The velvet burn, the powdered strife
I never touched the tin in here
But the scent is pulling me so near
Tins of crimson, gold and blue
Did I once belong to you?
Oh, the SNEEEEEEZE...
It brings me to my knees

Ghost of a scent in the air
Sensation  of snuff that was never there
Dust of the past in my head
Lines of a life I never led
Sneezing away the old day
The golden grain has blown away

I see us sitting in the shed
With words we haven't even said
I was a boy, I was a man
With tobacco dust upon my hand
Vapes and smoke are all I know
But this—this is a deeper glow
A ritual from long ago

Circular cans on the table
Blue and yellow on the metal label
I breathe in the bitter leaf
Finding relief

Bright tins stacked in the dark
(Spark, spark)
Every pinch leaves a mark
I wasn't there, I didn't see
How did this become a part of me?
I remember... everything.

Vape smoke clouds up the room
Paper sticks fill up the gloom
But I miss the grain
But I feel the strain
I feel it, I feel it, I feel it

Just a ghost in a tin...
The dust settles down.
I am someone else...
Or maybe I'm just finally...
Finding me.

Ghost of a scent in the air
Sensation of snuff that was never there
Dust of the past in my head
Lines of a life I never led
Sneezing away the old day
The golden grain has blown away
Away, away
Away, away

Words: 0 | Characters: 0

Notes:
Words: 0 | Characters: 0

Phantom Tins and Lost Senses

INDEX

PHANTOM ARCHIVE: COMPONENT TRACKS & TAKES