[VERSE 1] There was never anything missing, never anything out of place. Only something in the distance holding perfectly in space. Like two points upon a drawing never meant to intersect, still the distance kept decreasing every time the lines were checked. [PRE-CHORUS] Maybe maps are only useful for the place where they were made. Change the angle of the paper, and the whole direction changes. [CHORUS] Different coordinates, same magnetic pull. Different side of something neither one could move through. Turn the drawing ninety degrees, let another view appear. Maybe nothing ever moved at all— maybe everything got clear. [VERSE 2] There's a language underneath it, barely visible in ink. Little measurements and markings saying more than people think. No instruction says to follow. No direction says to stay. But sometimes changing where you're standing changes what the lines can say. [PRE-CHORUS] No erasing. No pretending. No rewriting what was there. Just another orientation showing something hidden there. [CHORUS] Different coordinates, same magnetic pull. Different side of something neither one could move through. Turn the drawing ninety degrees, let another view appear. Maybe nothing ever moved at all— maybe everything got clear. [BRIDGE] Same points. Same page. Same distance measured another way. One small shift in where you stand— and suddenly you understand. [FINAL CHORUS] Different coordinates, nothing left to prove. Some lines aren't meant for crossing— sometimes the whole frame moves. Leave the answer in the margins. Leave the meaning out of sight. The ones who know will recognize it. The rest will read the lines.
