[Verse 1] Nothing feels right tonight— the world’s tilted, coffee tastes flat, and the sky looks tired. But something flickers, just behind my ribs— a tiny static spark, warm enough to notice, small enough to ignore if I wanted to. I don’t. [Pre-Chorus] Maybe it’s foolish, maybe it’s nothing— but it’s moving. And movement is enough. [Chorus] So I breathe— slow, uncertain, but willing. I wait— not desperate, just listening. And somewhere between doubt and heartbeat, hope leans forward— quiet but real. [Verse 2] The street outside is restless, cars humming low like broken cellos, neon smeared across puddles like someone tried to paint joy but forgot the technique. Still— my feet tap the floor, off-beat, unsteady, as if they already know a rhythm that hasn’t started yet. [Bridge] [spoken, calm, almost smiling] Maybe tomorrow collapses. Maybe everything repeats. Maybe nothing changes— but maybe something does. And maybe that’s enough to stay awake just a little longer. [Chorus] [gentle harmony] So I breathe— slow, uncertain, but willing. I wait— not desperate, just listening. And somewhere between doubt and heartbeat, hope leans forward— quiet but real. [Outro] [fade, soft] The night isn’t better. But it feels lighter. And so do I.
