Wet Clay Groove

Parking ticket dry under the blade

Rideshare hums the radio cascade

Crowded kitchen after the guest list died

Quiet studio with the wet clay outside (mmm-hmmm)

Spin the wheel and mold the clay

Watch the water wash it all away

(oh,

wash it away)

Under the late light,

we spin the clay Holding on to what we couldn't say

(ahhh) Shape the hands and let it go

Everything we used to know

Your fingers cold, the wheel spins fast

Trying to make the shape of something last

But it slips right through like morning dew (yeah)

Holding on (humm-mmm)

Just a shape in the dark