[Intro – clean electric guitar, soft bass, restrained drums] [Verse 1 – female vocal, intimate British delivery] Quarter past one, corner shop closed, Hands in my pockets, walking home. Street's gone quiet, pavement still wet, Should've got a taxi. Didn't. Not yet. Third floor window, someone's making tea. Blue light flickering from somebody's TV. Two doors down there's a silhouette pacing back and forth. Wonder what they regret. [Pre-Chorus – drums slowly build] Funny how a window turns a stranger into a story. Give me five seconds, I'll invent your whole life for you. [Chorus – warm melancholic punk vocal] The lights are still on all the way home. Little yellow squares saying nobody's alone. Somebody's laughing. Somebody's gone. Somebody's lying there waiting for dawn. And maybe somewhere behind one of those walls, someone's looking out and wondering about us all. The lights are still on. So I keep walking on. [Instrumental – melodic guitar line, restrained drums] [Verse 2 – conversational melodic vocal] There's a kitchen with balloons by the door. Probably birthday. Maybe thirty-four. Someone's washing dishes in their dressing gown. Someone kills the hallway light then turns it back around. Top floor bedroom, curtains open wide. One bloke staring at the ceiling inside. Know that position. Know it too well. When nothing is wrong but nothing feels right as hell. [Pre-Chorus – slightly rougher delivery] Maybe he lost someone. Maybe he's just tired. Maybe his fucking neighbour won't turn the music down. [Female vocal – softer] Maybe I should stop writing lives for strangers. [Chorus – fuller] The lights are still on all the way home. Little yellow squares saying nobody's alone. Somebody's fighting. Somebody's calm. Somebody's holding somebody in their arms. And maybe somewhere behind one of those walls, someone's looking out and wondering about us all. The lights are still on. So I keep walking on. [Instrumental Break – warm distorted guitar, melodic bass] [Bridge – sparse guitar and drums] [Female vocal – close, vulnerable] My place is up ahead. Second floor. Left-hand side. Lamp by the window I forgot to switch off. [Pause] From out here it looks warm. Looks lived in. Looks like someone might be waiting. [Female vocal – quietly amused] Bit misleading. [Drums begin building] Still... could be worse. [Final Verse – stronger, rough melodic delivery] Maybe that's all any window ever shows: A little bit of warmth and none of what it knows. You don't see the argument. Don't see the debt. Don't see the message they haven't answered yet. Don't see the good bits either, the jokes or the wine, The dog on the sofa, the hand holding mine— [Brief pause] Well... not mine. You know what I mean. [Shout-sung, emotional] WE'RE ALL JUST LITTLE ROOMS FULL OF SHIT WE NEVER SHOW! TRYING TO LOOK WARM TO THE PEOPLE DOWN BELOW! [Band swells] [Final Chorus – big emotional punk vocal] The lights are still on all the way home. Little yellow squares saying nobody's alone. Somebody's breaking. Somebody's strong. Somebody's wondering where the fuck they belong. And maybe somewhere behind one of those walls, someone saw me walking and wondered where I'd gone. The lights are still on. [Female vocal – softer] Mine is too. [Outro – clean guitar, drums fading] [Female vocal – quiet] Second floor. Left-hand side. [Pause] Home.
