[Voice: First-person narrator (hospital visitor)] (Verse 1 – The corridor) I was waiting for my turn in a whitewashed hall, Counting the cracks in the paint on the wall. Nurses drifted like clouds through the day, And the clock on the far side ticked the same old way. Through an open door, I caught her there, Hands folded loose, dark hair unbrushed with care. She looked at the window, not at the floor, Like she’d been here before… but not in this world anymore. (Chorus – The question) I asked her, softly, "What’s your name?" She smiled like a candle that forgot its flame. The silence between us felt older than time, Like she’d worn a hundred names… but none were mine. (Verse 2 – The impossible) No bracelet, no chart at the foot of the bed, No shadow of family, no flowers in red. A nurse walked past, said, "That room’s been bare," But I swear I could feel her breathing there. Her eyes were oceans with the tide pulled back, A story untold, but the outline intact. She leaned in close, though her lips stayed still— And the air in the hallway bent to her will. (Chorus – The question) I asked her, softly, "What’s your name?" She smiled like a candle that forgot its flame. The silence between us felt older than time, Like she’d worn a hundred names… but none were mine. (Bridge – The pull) For a moment, the hospital fell away, And I heard a voice from another day. It said, "Some things are erased to keep them alive… Some people return so the rest can survive." (Chorus – Final) I asked her, softly, "What’s your name?" She smiled like a candle that forgot its flame. And somewhere between her and the morning light, I knew I would see her… again in the night. (Outro – Exit) They called my name, I turned my head, Looked back— But the woman was gone, And the bed was empty.
