Page of Pentacles

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
He stands inside the property line,
Where the tractor dragged the iron through the clay.
There's a stand of oak trees holding back the wind,
At the quiet, heavy bottom of the day.
He’s got both hands cupped together like a bowl,
Lifting up a single piece of brass.
He isn't tossing it to see where it might roll,
Just studying the metal in the grass.

[Chorus]
Oh, the work hasn’t started,
But he’s feeling out the weight.
He’s measuring the distance
From the topsoil to the gate.
Nobody told him to be serious yet,
Nobody asked him for a guarantee.
He’s holding on to something he can keep,
Learning how a heavy thing should be.

[Verse 2]
He runs a dirty thumbnail round the rim,
Counting 119 ridges on the edge.
The shadow of the branches starts to dim,
Reaching out across the hawthorn hedge.
His brain is trying to read a pattern in the shine,
Like the copper holds a secret he could pry.
But it's just a simple, solitary coin,
Held up to the cooling, empty sky.

[Bridge]
It takes a long time to learn a single trade,
A thousand quiet hours just to grip the handle right.
He’s staring at the furrow he just made,
In the fading, level yellow of the light.
He knows he’s at the bottom of the hill.
The metal doesn't care about his will.

[Chorus]
But the work hasn’t started,
And he’s feeling out the weight.
He’s measuring the distance
From the topsoil to the gate.
Nobody told him to be serious yet,
Nobody asked him for a guarantee.
He’s holding on to something he can keep,
Learning how a heavy thing should be.

[Outro]
Yeah, he’s holding it in both hands.
Staring at the center of the thing.

The dirt is turned.
The trees are still.
Just waiting on the spring.