[Intro – warm nylon-string guitar arpeggio, a soft exhale, no words yet] [Verse 1 – tender, close, a little playful] You've got a notebook for the way I laugh a decimal for every time I stay you love me like a careful paragraph precise enough to never go astray and I let you, God, I loved being studied loved being someone's gentlest exact but even the most patient hands get muddied trying to hold a moving thing intact [Pre-Chorus – softening, tension of tenderness building] You can chart my orbit you can name my every phase but the closer that you get it the more the whole thing blurs, the more it stays just out of reach of being explained [Chorus – opening wide, warm, full-hearted] So put the instruments down let the numbers go I don't want to be known that clean I want to be unmeasured, and loved anyway, so come get lost in the margin with me you can't hold my hand and hold the data too some things only work if you don't solve for true call it uncertain, call it close enough to touch I'd rather be a mystery you love too much [Post-Chorus – layered, warm harmonies] (unmeasured, unmeasured) still yours, just never fully known [Verse 2 – warmer, more physical, a little wry] You used to flinch when I changed my mind mid-sentence now you just smile like it's part of the design I used to think love needed evidence now I think it just needs you and wine and time we waste on purpose, unaccounted hours that never make it to your log the parts of me that never quite amounted to anything you could measure or catalog [Pre-Chorus] You can chart my orbit you can name my every phase but the closer that you get it the more the whole thing blurs, the more it stays just out of reach of being explained [Chorus] So put the instruments down let the numbers go I don't want to be known that clean I want to be unmeasured, and loved anyway, so come get lost in the margin with me you can't hold my hand and hold the data too some things only work if you don't solve for true call it uncertain, call it close enough to touch I'd rather be a mystery you love too much [Bridge – quiet, intimate, almost spoken between the two of you] Maybe love was never meant to be precise maybe that's the whole entire point you don't need proof to hold me twice you just need to stay in the same room, unresolved, unpinned, unjoint- ed from certainty, and close [Outro – the guitar loosens into something freer, less measured, warm and unresolved, fading into an open, unfinished chord] Still here. Still unsolved. Still yours.
