Nameless

(Verse 1) The ink is dry, but the page is still screaming I’ve spent three hours staring at the ceiling Trying to map out the geography of a ghost The part of you that haunts the things I love most. I’m a clumsy architect, building ruins in my head Trying to find a synonym for everything we said But the dictionary is a cemetery of dead ideas And I’m just digging holes in the middle of my fears. (Pre-Chorus) And I sit there some nights, just confessing to the stars Asking them to translate the distance from here to where you are Wondering if the air tastes different where you don't exist Or if I’m just a footnote in a story that was missed. (Chorus) And I don’t even know what to call you Not your name—that’s too small, too a-linear You aren't an angel, and you’re more than a rock You’re the glitch in the rhythm, the break in the clock. Hard to classify, a category of one A lunar eclipse blocking out a midday sun You’re nameless, a frequency I can’t quite tune A secret kept by a waning moon. (Verse 2) I tried to search the feeling of a hollowed-out chest I searched for "the space where a heartbeat should rest" But results came back empty, a blank white screen Like a word that’s been thought of, but never been. My brain is a novelist who hates the final act It avoids the conclusion, it avoids every fact I’m awful with words; they trip on my tongue Like a song that was started, but never quite sung. (Bridge) The word hasn’t been penned, the ink hasn't dried There’s a vast, open valley where the language has died So I’ll leave the sentence hanging, a comma, a sigh A question mark etched in a midnight sky. Never write the ending, the credits won't roll And the lack of a conclusion is what makes me whole Yeah, it’s an ending that hasn't been written... ...And hopefully, it never will be. [Guitar Solo - slow, distorted, echoing, ethereal] (Chorus) And I don’t even know what to call you Not your name—that’s too small, too a-linear You aren't an angel, and you’re more than a rock You’re the glitch in the rhythm, the break in the clock. Hard to classify, a category of one A lunar eclipse blocking out a midday sun You’re nameless, a frequency I can’t quite tune A secret kept by a waning moon. [Instrumental outro] [End]