(Verse) The harbor is a velvet map pinned to the edge of the dark Where the freighters bring rumors of fire and a ghost of a shark The air smells of cloves and a secret that’s long overdue And the moon’s a gold coin that’s been polished for me and for you I’m wearing a tuxedo stitched out of the night and the rain Checking my watch for a train that’s arrived on a plane. (Verse) The piano is pouring a liquid that tastes like the sea While the accordion sighs like a man who is trying to flee The dancers are painted in colors that don’t have a name Circling the stage in a slow and ritualized game There’s a spy in the corner with eyes like a chipped sapphire Watching the smoke rise up in a spiral of desire. (Chorus) Oh, we’re spinning in the latitude, drifting in the haze Lost in the rhythm of the cinematic maze It’s a performance of shadows, a cabaret of the deep Where we trade all our waking hours for the price of a sleep Yeah, the ship’s gonna sail, but the port’s gonna stay In the beautiful wreckage of the end of the day. (Verse) I handed the barker a feather from a bird made of glass He showed me a tunnel that’s hidden in the looking-glass We’re performing a prayer for the ships that have vanished in fog Writing our sins in the ink of a salt-water log The vibraphone shimmers like stars falling into the bay And the ritual demands that we never get out of the way. (Bass Solo) (The upright bass takes the center, playing a deep, hypnotic, and swaying melody. The exotic percussion textures—gongs and shakers—create a ritualistic, percussive pulse underneath, feeling like a slow-motion tribal dance.) (Verse) The trumpeter’s crying a note that could open a lock While we wait for the tide to arrive at the tick of the clock The lights are all purple, the velvet is heavy with salt And we’re dancing our way through the seams of a grander fault You’re a foreign intrigue, you’re a line from a black-market play And I’m just the mark who’s enjoying the cost of the sway. (Chorus) Oh, we’re spinning in the latitude, drifting in the haze Lost in the rhythm of the cinematic maze It’s a performance of shadows, a cabaret of the deep Where we trade all our waking hours for the price of a sleep Yeah, the ship’s gonna sail, but the port’s gonna stay In the beautiful wreckage of the end of the day. (Piano Solo) (The piano weaves a complex, dreamy, and slightly dissonant melody, echoing with immense reverb. It sounds like water dripping into an empty concert hall, punctuated by the occasional eerie, metallic resonance of the vibraphone.) (Chorus) Oh, we’re spinning in the latitude, drifting in the haze Lost in the rhythm of the cinematic maze It’s a performance of shadows, a cabaret of the deep Where we trade all our waking hours for the price of a sleep Yeah, the ship’s gonna sail, but the port’s gonna stay In the beautiful wreckage of the end of the day. (Outro) (The instruments drop out one by one, leaving only the soft shake of a rhythm rattle and the fading hum of the vibraphone. A final, low accordion chord fades into a long, dreamlike silence.) The tide is turning... The illusion is complete. Just a foreign port... And a pair of tired feet. Keep the secrets. Yeah. Keep the secrets.
