I count the daylight in the doorway, trying not to let it fall away Your laugh hangs like a warm refrain, and I learn how to stay The streetlight keeps its careful distance, as men step closer to the glass They speak in practiced, polished lines, while I hold tight the past (“ahhh…”) There are hours that want to gather, their faces quick and bright and thin They offer faster, louder promises, and push against the skin I fold my breath into the silence, and stand where edges begin (“stay”) (“stay with me”) I keep the last light between us, a trembling map of time I hold the small and honest hours, and try to make them mine They come with brighter easy words, they promise louder days I learn to keep the quiet near, and guard the softer ways (“ooh—”) (“hold on”) (“hold on”) I walk the edges of the evening, where faces blur and lights grow thin I count the ways the evening bends, and hold the shape of him You move like something carved from morning, a calm that hushes chords to hush And I press every step I steal, like money from the rush (“ahhh…”) They line the meters of your brightness, they measure out their lines and jest And every offered silver smile, seems eager to invest I keep my hands in calmer weather, and count the way I rest (“mine…”) I keep the last light between us, I keep the hour and the hush I hold the quiet like a pledge, and let the rest go rush They parade their plans and polished lines, they shine and fade away I trace the edges of your face, and learn the things to say (“ooh—”) [Solo] (“ooh”) I keep the window of our morning, the angle where your shadow bends I mark the tiny easy glances, and count the ways it mends If leaving comes on steady feet, I’ll learn to hold the door (“we will”) I keep the last light between us, I hold the hour and the hand I stitch the softer spaces, and try to make a stand They circle close with brighter lines, they promise what they please I learn to walk the steadier miles, and keep your world at ease
