Porchlight Sessions

On the wooden steps where the paint is thin

I found the key we forgot to turn in

Under the porch light,

flickering pale

Just a quiet sign of a broken trail And we are dancing

in the cool August air

Two steps forward to the warmth we share (ooh-ooh)

At two in the morning,

a map in his hand A tourist asks how to reach the

sand But before the music can fade or bend He walks away

into the dark end

But this is not about a key or a guide

It is about the clay

spinning inside

We spent hours trying to shape the mold

Only to watch the edges turn cold

We were just trying to hold on

Before the summer was gone (ooh-ooh-ooh)