Lyrics

The streetlights breathe, the stitches show.

I took the long way past the county line,
Where every porch is built from borrowed time.
A market man sold silence by the jar,
And said, “It keeps you younger than you are.”
A barber swept my worries off the floor,
Folded them neat and slid them through a drawer.
I laughed like “Sure”, but then I felt it true,
This town was odd, and oddly gentle too.

When the lanterns lean, don’t look away,
They’re just the moonlight learning what to say.
And if your knees don’t love the cobblestone,
Take my arm, you won’t walk it alone.

Hold on, hold on, don’t let go,
When the streetlight stitches start to glow.
Hush now, hush now, breathe it in,
Let the strange be how the peace begins.
If the world feels fast, and your heart feels tired,
This little town will light what won’t expire.
Hold on, hold on, don’t let go,
When the streetlight stitches start to glow.

Down by the canal, the water wasn’t wet,
Just folded gray cloth with a silver thread.
Old fishermen pulled up clock hands like fish,
And smiled like boys making birthday wishes.
A rooftop garden grew stair steps in the air,
So folks could plant their hopes up anywhere.
And every footfall left a tiny seam,
Like life was mended by a simple dream.

You don’t have to solve what you can’t name,
You don’t have to win to stay the same.
Just count your blessings like you count the beat,
And let your shadow find a softer seat.

Hold on, hold on, don’t let go,
When the streetlight stitches start to glow.
Hush now, hush now, breathe it in,
Let the strange be how the peace begins.
If the world feels fast, and your heart feels tired,
This little town will light what won’t expire.
Hold on, hold on, don’t let go,
When the streetlight stitches start to glow.

An old musician on the courthouse stair,
Played telephone wires like a ribboned harp in air.
No one heard sound, just saw the dust turn gold,
Like little notes that warmed the winter cold.
He winked and said, “Friend, that’s the secret art,
We don’t fix time, we simply frame the heart.”
And for a second, every window sighed,
As if the town itself was alive inside.

Hold on, hold on, don’t let go,
When the streetlight stitches start to glow.
Hush now, hush now, breathe it in,
Let the strange be how the peace begins.
If your hands feel old, if your voice feels thin,
This little town will sing you back again.
Hold on, hold on, don’t let go,
When the streetlight stitches start to glow.

Hold on, hold on.
The streetlights breathe, and stitches show.