[Verse 1] I trace her steps through the crowded room, A silent movie only I resume. She laughs at jokes I’ll never hear, Her voice a song that disappears. I carve my heart in invisible ink— Pages turn but she never thinks. I shout my name in a soundproof void, A ghost she’s built to avoid. [Chorus] She don’t see the cracks, don’t feel the flame, (I’m a flicker in her old frame). She don’t taste the salt in the air I breathe, (Just a stranger she’ll never need). She’s the sun, I’m a borrowed light, Drowning slow in her satellite… She doesn’t even know my name, But I’d burn this world just to taste that flame. [Verse 2] We orbit worlds that never align— Her velvet sky, my frayed twine. She sips champagne; I clutch my pen, Writing hymns to a “what if” again. I’d trade my bones for a single glance, But pride’s a cage, and fear’s my dance. She’s a statue carved from “almost” and “yet”— Close enough to ache, too far to let. [Chorus] She don’t see the cracks, don’t feel the flame, (I’m a flicker in her old frame). She don’t taste the salt in the air I breathe, (Just a stranger she’ll never need). She’s the sun, I’m a borrowed light, Drowning slow in her satellite… She doesn’t even know my name, But I’d burn this world just to taste that flame. [Instrumental Break] [Build-up] [Guitar solo] [Clean, aching notes spiral like unanswered questions, synths swelling like a held breath] [Bridge] Maybe tomorrow, the script will twist— Her eyes meet mine through the morning mist. But tonight, I’m a footnote, a shadow unread, Love’s first draft where the hero’s dead. [Final Chorus] She don’t see the cracks, don’t feel the flame, (I’m a flicker in her old frame). She don’t taste the salt in the air I breathe, (Just a stranger she’ll never need). She’s the sun, I’m a borrowed light, Drowning slow in her satellite… She doesn’t even know my name… (Oh, she doesn’t know—) She doesn’t even know my name… [Vocals fade, lingering on “name” as guitars dissolve into synth haze]
