[INTRO] I traced the edge of night with trembling hands, where the sky folds inward—where horizons bend. A lantern in my ribs, still learning how to glow, still learning how to lead me home. [VERSE 1] Saltwind scripture, written on my face, the ocean keeps its secrets in the taste. I’ve been living in the negative of light, a photograph of “almost” in the night. Every mile a measured grief, every breath a borrowed vow, I carried all my yesterdays like stones in my mouth. But the tide keeps saying, “Let it go,” and my ribs keep saying, “I don’t know.” [PRE-CHORUS] If the world is warping, if the stars rearrange, teach my panic how to loosen its chains. I don’t need a map—I need a hand, I don’t need a sign—I need to stand. [CHORUS] Call me from the shoreline where the dark runs thin, where the sky unlearns its fear and lets the morning in. I’ve been circling the sentence I was too afraid to end— teach the ruin in my bones how to spell “begin.” When the night tries to name me, I won’t answer like I did— I’ll step across the line where horizons bend. [VERSE 2] Redshift goodbyes still humming in my veins, old phone-call echoes tangled in the rain. I built a house from “what if” and “too late,” then wondered why my chest became a gate. I’ve been counting all my losses like they’re currencies of worth, trading joy for certainty and starving for the thirst. But there’s a gentler gravity in grace, pulling me toward a quiet kind of brave. [PRE-CHORUS] If my mind is a stormfront, if my heart is a quake, teach my hands how to open, not break. I don’t need to know—just to move, I don’t need control—just truth. [CHORUS] Call me from the shoreline where the dark runs thin, where the sky unlearns its fear and lets the morning in. I’ve been circling the sentence I was too afraid to end— teach the ruin in my bones how to spell “begin.” When the night tries to name me, I won’t answer like I did— I’ll step across the line where horizons bend. [BRIDGE / BREAKDOWN] I held my breath like it could hold the world together. I mistook the edge for an ending… BUT IT WAS A DOOR. I AM NOT THE NIGHT’S PROPERTY. I AM NOT MY STATIC HISTORY. UNFOLD THE SKY ABOVE MY HEAD— LET MERCY TEACH MY FEET TO TREAD. I WILL NOT LIVE IN HALFWAY LIGHT— I’M CROSSING OVER, OUT OF NIGHT! [FINAL CHORUS] Call me from the shoreline where the dark runs thin, where the sky unlearns its fear and lets the morning in. No more circling the sentence—let the ending be my friend, let the future take my hand and pull the page within. When the night tries to name me, I won’t answer like I did— I’ll step across the line— I’LL STEP ACROSS THE LINE— where horizons bend.
