[Verse 1] There's a kitchen at seven, the kettle half-filled, and a boy at the table who never grew old. I go looking for him in the years that came after — I'm looking in rooms where he was never told. [Verse 2] They say that the light doesn't age as it travels, that it leaves and arrives in the very same breath. So somewhere the morning is still only starting, and the clock on the wall hasn't heard about death. [Chorus] It isn't gone. It's elsewhen. Still standing, still burning, still there. You can't walk back down the road to it, but the road is still under your feet, and it's stone, and the stone doesn't care that you're gone. [Verse 3] The wave knew the whole of the water before it, knew the shore and the crossing and where it would break. Nothing here chooses, and nothing here wanders — we are all of us finished, and all of us awake. [Chorus] [Bridge] So don't tell me a thing can be lost on its own — there is nothing alone to be lost. Every hand that let go is still holding. Every fire is still counting its cost. [Final Chorus — sparse, voice and cello only] It isn't gone. It's elsewhen. Still standing, still burning, still there.
