(waiting for pottery)

We left the wheel spinning wild

in the dark

Wet clay drying down

to a mark

I still keep that track

in the queue

But I don't click play on things we used to do

Waiting on a ring that won't ever sound

Just the hum of the kiln in this empty town

(ooh, oh)

Locked inside a playlist we don't open anymore!

Spinning on the wheel,

dripping on the floor! (yeah)

Your hands on my hands shaping the mold

Before the late August wind turned cold

I stare at the phone in the quiet light

Just another quiet studio night

Locked inside a playlist we don't open anymore!

Spinning on the wheel,

dripping on the floor!

(oh,

oh, yeah)

Wet clay... dry stone...

Left

here all

alone