[Verse] The room keeps its mouth shut Clock ticking from the kitchen I leave the lamp off on purpose Let the dark sit where it is I hear my shoes in the hallway One slow pass past the door No drama, no parade Just me and the cold floor [Verse] I leave the kitchen light on low, but the chill still bites, you know? Every shadow stretches long, whispers of a forgotten song. The TV's on, a hollow drone, like echoes from a life you owned. And that jacket on the chair, a silent witness to despair. Your key still hangs, a rusty lie, a ghost of hope beneath the sky. Each tick of the clock, a heavy beat, marking steps on a one-way street. This house, it breathes, but holds its breath, a monument to living death.
