Sometimes a song begins with an image and only later reveals the truth behind it.
This one began with an old sailor.
Lyrics
An old sailor walks with salt in his soul
Twenty years of waves carved into his bones
A sack on his back, a log in his mind
Ports have no names, but the route he can find
Streets are worn like a wooden deck
Windows light up on perfect cue
He tells himself: one door, one view
One more step, one last breath, they need me
I'm walking home by memory, alone
Salt on my lips, wind whips, cuts to the bone
The door will open, they've waited for me
The door will open... I'm needed again
She opens slow, looks straight through him
Takes his notebook like she always knew
"Your light kept ships safe and sound from running aground"
Then soft: "The ships were yours to guide.
You stayed, you brought them home."
Oil on his hands from lighthouse glass
Storms were nights, flickering lights, not open seas
Routes were rounds through dark with ease
A heavy key hung from his past
I'm walking home, my memory, alone
Salt on my lips, eclipse, but I've always been here
The door is open, I never left
The door is open, I was always home
