Lyrics

Mm hmm, this town remembers.

I bought a cup of morning from a stall on Cedar Street,
Paid with two old buttons and a half forgotten beat.
The baker wore a lantern like a halo made of wax,
He said, “Around here, friend, the light don’t ever relax.”
A man strung up his laundry, coats that stood without a spine,
Like empty little people waiting for a place in time.
And everybody nodded like they’d seen my face before,
I hadn’t been here once, but I felt it in my core.

You can try to keep it ordinary, you can try to keep it neat,
But the cobblestones start humming when your heart returns to beat.
If you’ve been carrying years like a suitcase full of stone,
Set it down, listen close, you’re not alone.

Oh, the town plays you back, plays you back, soft and slow,
Like an old front porch radio under a low amber glow.
Hold on, hold on, don’t run, don’t fight,
Let the strange little music turn your worries into light.
If your hands feel older, if your days been long,
This unusual town will teach your silence into song.
Yeah, the town plays you back, plays you back, soft and slow.

Down at the canal, the water was a stitched gray sheet,
Fishermen pulled clock hands up instead of something to eat.
A rooftop garden grew stair steps in the air like prayer,
Folks climbed one step, then smiled like they got lighter up there.
A parade came rolling with a drum made out of clay,
And every downbeat made the window shutters blink and sway.
No one said “explain it”, no one asked what it all meant,
They just danced like second chances are the rent.

When the fiddles are suitcases and the bass is made of wood,
You stop demanding reasons, and you take what’s good.
And if your world feels fast like it forgot to be kind,
Let the slow half time heartbeat bring you back to your mind.

Oh, the town plays you back, plays you back, soft and slow,
Like an old front porch radio under a low amber glow.
Hold on, hold on, don’t run, don’t fight,
Let the strange little music turn your worries into light.
If your hands feel older, if your days been long,
This unusual town will teach your silence into song.
Yeah, the town plays you back, plays you back, soft and slow.

I met a band on the courthouse steps, all gray haired and serene,
They played the telephone wires like a five line silver screen.
No sound came out, just dust that rose in ribbons, warm and bright,
And wrapped around our shoulders like a borrowed Sunday night.
The conductor used his scissors like a wand above the air,
Snip snip, left a seam of light you almost couldn’t bear.
He whispered, “Friend, at our age, wonder’s still a win,
So let the song take you home again.”

Oh, the town plays you back, plays you back, soft and slow,
Like an old front porch radio under a low amber glow.
Hold on, hold on, stay near, stay kind,
Let the strange little music leave the heavy years behind.
If your voice feels older, if the world feels wrong,
This unusual town will teach your silence into song.
Yeah, the town plays you back, plays you back, soft and slow.

Plays you back, mm hmm, soft and slow.