The Stop-Working Signal
Senses homework: after a week on autopilot, the sound of ice in a rum and coke on a Friday night. My whole body hears it as permission to stop. And a little of it is the girl who got me into them.
Another long week, another war in my head
Living on autopilot, the words left unsaid
Just moving through motions, a ghost in the shell
Trapped in the rhythm of a tolling bell
Work and then sleep and then work and then wait
Trying to find a key for a locked-up gate
But then Friday night comes, and I know the sound
Of the ice in the glass as I pour it all out
It's the stop-working signal, a flash in the dark
A sweetness and fire, a beautiful spark
And it tastes like a memory of someone I knew
And a hopeful beginning, and a sky that was blue
It's the one simple ritual, the one sacred sign
That for this single moment, my life is still mine
It's funny how a flavor can carry you back
To a different apartment, a different life track
With words about magic and tacos and trust
A foundation built out of stardust and rust
And a promise you made to yourself back then
That you'd find your way back to that feeling again
And the years fall away, and I know the sound
Of the ice in the glass as I pour it all out
It's the stop-working signal, a flash in the dark
A sweetness and fire, a beautiful spark
And it tastes like a memory of someone I knew
And a hopeful beginning, and a sky that was blue
It's the one simple ritual, the one sacred sign
That for this single moment, my life is still mine
And the world goes quiet, the engines power down
I'm the king of this moment in this nowhere town
Just one or two, to let the armor fall away
And find the strength to fight another day
It's the stop-working signal, a flash in the dark
A sweetness and fire, a beautiful spark
And it tastes like a memory of someone I knew
And a hopeful beginning, and a sky that was blue
It's the one simple ritual, the one sacred sign
That for this single moment, my life is still mine