[Verse 1] Your coat left a crease in my seat. Coffee went cold by ten.34. The wipers missed one section of rain, so I drove with my sleeve on that part. Streetlamps stretched like yellow wire, half-light caught the metal seam. I keep your phone number under thumb and forget what it meant to me. [Pre-Chorus] The dash clock flickers red twice. Your name stays unsaid once more. The lane lines blur and part, then knit themselves back hard. [Chorus] Half-light drift through the corner, hands loose on the wheel. If I miss a turn, let it take me. I am learning not to feel where you end and road begins. Half-light drift across glass. Let one thing go before morning. Let this song be the last. [Verse 2] The station speaker clips a note. Your old chain jingles at my wrist. I see your car by every diner, then look away, like I might miss. Two kids laugh behind a bus. A driver waves with both hands. My sleeve is damp against the window where no one understands. [Bridge] The rain lets up at county line. I pull over and watch it clear. Your ring sits in my cupped palm, small enough to disappear. No grand speech, no clean repair, just the engine clicking cold. One deep breath, one open hand, to lose what I could not hold. [Chorus] Half-light drift through the corner, my hands learn where to stay. Let it take me. I do not need a title for this. Let it be the thing that leaves. No more counting every mile, no more making shadows speak. If you find me at the station, tell them I was never weak. [Outro] One door opens, one shuts close. Two streets split in two. Half-light drift on the pavement, still moving after you.
