Clay Fingers

(oh-oh, yeah)

Another screen, another name to trace

Wet clay spinning in a quiet space

You left your denim jacket

on my chair

But you're just screenshots

in the kitchen glare The guest list died,

the crowd has gone to sleep

We're washing hands in memories we keep

But you delete the chat and lock the phone

In a crowded kitchen,

totally alone

Oh, let the wheel spin,

let the clay dry down!

We're searching for a fire in a quiet town

Spinning in the shadows of the summer heat

(ahhh) Can we make a memory that we won't delete?

Two accounts to keep the peace

But the longing doesn't find release

I still feel the wet clay on my skin

As the house lights dim and the day begins

Oh, let the wheel spin,

let the clay dry down!

We're searching for a fire in a quiet town

Spinning in the shadows of the summer heat

(ahhh) Can we make a memory that we won't delete?

Just screenshots in the dark...

(wet clay on my hands)