[Instrumental] [Verse 1] The ground inside me is cracked open, no footprints left anymore. Even the wind stopped asking questions. I wake up to dust where warmth used to live, and the sun hangs low— not cruel, just tired. Every memory is a rusted signpost pointing to places that no longer exist. [Pre-Chorus] I didn’t lose you in a storm. I lost you in the waiting. [Chorus] This is a wasteland, but it used to be a home. I talk to shadows because silence learned my name. Nothing grows here now— except the ache of what I couldn’t keep. [Instrumental] [Verse 2] I walk for miles inside myself and never reach the edge. There are bones of old promises half-buried beneath my ribs. I try to water the past, but grief drinks faster than hope. The sky doesn’t fall here. It just never opens. [Pre-Chorus] I carry your absence like a canteen with a hole in it. [Chorus] This is a wasteland, where my heart forgot how to echo. Every beat sounds alone now, like a signal no one answers. I would burn this desert down if it meant feeling you again. [Bridge] They say time heals— but time just learned how to survive without you. And survival isn’t living, it’s just staying. If love was rain, I stood in the open too long and learned how to thirst. [Instrumental] [Final Chorus] This is a wasteland, but I still search the horizon. I still believe in ruins because ruins mean something stood here once. If you ever hear my name in the dust— know it’s still beating, even here. [Outro] No flowers. No fire. Just a heart learning how to ache quietly. [Instrumental]
