Gate Code Still Works

Paroles de « Gate Code Still Works »

Verse

Four-two-nine-one, and I didn't even think,
my thumb knew it before my head caught up.
Same buzz, same click, same crooked gate,
same rust on the latch where the paint gave up.
Six years, and I practiced a speech in the car
for a house that never asked me where I'd been.

Chorus

Gate code still works. Gate code still works.
Nobody moved a thing but me.

Verse

Mom's blue sedan on the left like always,
Dad's ladder still leaning where the gutter sagged.
Porch light on a timer, comes on at nine,
that mat with the dog we buried in the yard.
I sat in the drive with the engine ticking down,
bugs all over the windshield from the south.

Chorus

Gate code still works. Gate code still works.
Nobody moved a thing but me.

Verse

There's a chair by the door where the cat used to wait,
orange as a traffic cone, and twice as slow.
I could see the TV going blue through the curtain,
same clock over the stove, eleven minutes fast.
And I thought about the numbers sitting in my phone
that I never once deleted, never once called.

Bridge

Funny thing about a code you don't forget:
it opens, and it lets you keep on standing out.
Smoked one down on the walk in my winter coat
like a stranger reading somebody else's mail.
Then I hit the button, watched it swing shut slow —
six years, and I'm the only thing that changed.

Chorus

Gate code still works. Gate code still works.
Nobody moved a thing but me.
Gate code still works. Gate code still works.
Nobody moved a thing but me.

Outro

Four-two-nine-one.
Same gate. Same click.
Four-two-nine-one.
And I never went in.