[Verse 1] My shoulders knew before I did, pulled tight beneath my shirt. The room kept all its corners; still, one corner hurt. A glass of water on the shelf sat clear and looked away. I swallowed nothing twice and let it pass for day. My jaw held an old position I had never taught it to. The air stayed very ordinary. My body knew. [Pre-Chorus] No voice. No name. No finger on the frame. Just the old part keeping still while the new part missed its aim. No knock. No call. No writing on the wall. It didn’t have to enter. It was under all. [Chorus] What won’t chase, what won’t chase, stays where I begin. Kept its eyes behind my eyes, kept quiet under skin. It held my shape before my face, held still inside my place. I can turn away all day — but not from what won’t chase. [Verse 2] I held my pulse beneath my thumb; it wasn’t fast or slow. Not enough to name it panic, not enough to let it go. My fingers found the cuff seam and worried it to thread. The chair stayed where I left it. Something watched instead. I moved a cup an inch aside, then moved it back again. Nothing in the room replied. The silence noticed then. [Pre-Chorus 2] Bad sleep. White light. Loose thread at my wrist. I gave each little reason a place where it could fit. No pull. No plead. No hunger. No need. It didn’t come any closer. It was already underneath. [Chorus] What won’t chase, what won’t chase, stays where I begin. Kept its eyes behind my eyes, kept quiet under skin. It held my shape before my face, held still inside my place. I can turn away all day — but not from what won’t chase. [Bridge] I named it bad sleep. I named it coffee nerves. Pulled the collar from my throat and smoothed it back to work. The glass kept holding water. The chair kept holding air. Behind the ordinary, something held me there. I almost made it fear. I almost made it clear. But it stayed below the naming, too near to disappear. [Final Chorus] What won’t chase, what won’t chase, stays where I begin. Kept its eyes behind my eyes, kept quiet under skin. It held my shape before my face, held still inside my place. I can turn away all day — but not from what won’t chase. [Outro] Drop the shoulders. Same old air. Glass on the shelf. White wall. Chair. No voice. No name. No closing space. Only stillness keeping shape. I left the room. It wore my face. No outrunning what won’t chase.
