[Intro — spoken, room tone, empty echo] Truck's loaded. Lights are on. One minute. [Verse 1 — rap] There's a clean square on the wall where a picture used to be, can't remember what it was — been here too long to see. Table left at nine, wardrobe went around five, now the room looks twice as big with nothing left inside. I'm sitting on the floor 'cause the chairs are gone, hearing every little sound where the furniture was. Eight years of keys and shoes and voices in this room — funny how it takes an empty place to hear it breathe again. [Pre-Chorus] All that's left is the switch. One key. That's it. [Chorus — sung] Kill the light, close the door. Leave the key where it was before. No one to call, no one to tell. I'm walking out and I'm walking out well. [Verse 2 — rap] I know the third board creaks when you step too hard, know the morning sun hits here before it hits the yard. Know the little mark beside the bedroom frame, never thought I'd know a place by every inch and grain. Somebody else will stand right here one morning soon, put their coffee on the counter, hang a picture in the room. They won't hear the years beneath the floorboards when they move, and I guess that's how it goes — the house forgets before you do. Nobody left angry. Nobody slammed a door. Nothing broke between us. Nothing worth a war. That's the strange part — there was nothing left to blame. One day it was our life. Next day it had a moving date. [Chorus — sung] Kill the light, close the door. Leave the key where it was before. No one to call, no one to tell. I'm walking out and I'm walking out well. [Bridge — beat drops out, footsteps on stairs] “Boss! We're loaded! You coming down or what?” “Yeah. Give me a minute.” “Take two. It's your place.” [one bar — silence] It was. [one bar] Not this morning. [one bar] But I take the two anyway. [Final Chorus — sung, fuller] Kill the light, close the door. Key on the ledge — I don't need it anymore. No one to call, no one to tell. The guy downstairs is waiting and he's blowing that horn like hell. Kill the light, close the door. Eight years behind me, nothing on the floor. No big goodbye, no story to tell. Just one last look and I'm walking out well. [Outro — spoken, over engine idling] Light. Door. Stairs. [pause] That's it. [horn. engine pulls away.]
