I wonder what happens when the door clicks shut, when my footsteps fade and I'm far enough away... Does the room stay the same? Or does my name walk back in? You smile when you see me, say, "It's good you're here," laugh at all my stories, pull your chair near. But I've always wondered when I finally leave, does the truth get louder when there's no more me? Do you say what you meant? Do you mean what you said? Does another version of me show up instead? 'Cause everybody knows somebody they've never really known, and I wonder who I become when I'm gone. If I could disappear but leave my ears behind, would I hear something beautiful... Or change my mind? **What do they say when I'm gone?** When my chair's empty and the conversation rolls on? Do they say, "I love that soul," or, "Let me tell you what I know"? Do they build me up? Do they tear me down? Does my name get heavier when I'm not around? I'd give anything just once to be a fly upon that wall... To hear **what they say when I'm gone.** Maybe I'm remembered better than I fear, maybe someone defends me when I'm nowhere near. Maybe somebody whispers, "Nah, you've got 'em wrong," maybe there's a kindness that only speaks when I'm gone. Or maybe all the compliments were costumes for the room, and honesty waits patiently for me to leave too soon. Funny how the truth doesn't always come along until the person it's about is already gone. I'd crawl across the ceiling, hide somewhere unseen, just to meet the version of me that lives inside your speech. **What do they say when I'm gone?** When my chair's empty and the conversation rolls on? Do they say, "I love that soul," or, "Let me tell you what I know"? Do they build me up? Do they tear me down? Does my name get heavier when I'm not around? I'd give anything just once to be a fly upon that wall... To hear **what they say when I'm gone.** But maybe... I don't need to know. Maybe every closed door should stay closed. Maybe peace is worth more than overheard truth. Maybe what you say about me says more about you. Still... When somebody leans forward, when somebody lowers their tone, when somebody says— *"Now that they're gone..."* Oh, I'd love to know. **WHAT DO THEY SAY WHEN I'M GONE?** When the filter disappears and the real words come on? Do they remember my heart? Do they rewrite my flaws? Do they tell the whole story or just the parts that cause applause? Maybe they love me. Maybe they don't. Maybe they understand me. Maybe they won't. But I can't spend my whole life with my ear against the wall... Trying to hear **what they say when I'm gone.** So talk. Tell your version. Tell it right. Tell it wrong. I'll keep walking... 'Cause eventually you've gotta stop living for what people say when you're gone. Still... I'd love to be that fly just once.
