[Instrumental Intro] [Verse 1] I press my palms to the window but the warmth won’t pass through. Your world looks soft from here— all lamplight laughter, all hands in motion. I learn your joy in echoes, read your life in silhouettes, but every door I knock on is one you say was never locked. So why does it never open? [Verse 2] I dress my silence in patience, hang questions like lanterns in my chest, hoping one flicker might be seen. But I am always the still frame, paused outside the scene— not cast, not called, just known enough to stay forgotten. [Chorus] I’m the one with the face in the fog, the breath that fades before it’s noticed. I watch connection like a ritual I was never meant to learn. You speak in codes I almost break then change the locks again. I’m on the outside looking in— and you pretend I’m standing with you. [Instrumental] [Verse 3] You say “just come in”— but I’ve done that before. My feet left no prints. My voice made no dent. I was the backdrop to your moment, a ghost between the lines, a witness mistaken for absence. [Bridge] It’s not that I want to be the center— I just want to matter when the room turns quiet. To not be the pause you only feel when it's gone. To be part of the warmth, not just warmed by what leaks through the cracks in your attention. [Instrumental] [Final Chorus] I’m the mirror in your hallway— seen but never studied. I’m the laugh you almost heard before the spotlight turned. I’m the rain that taps the pane while the party moves inside. I’m on the outside looking in— and I’ve learned how to stay unseen. [Instrumental Outro]
