[PRE-CHORUS] [lift, subtle tension] No fixed point, no return just a pocket full of almost-learns [CHORUS] [wider, open vowels, slight urgency] I don’t know where I’ll wake up next ceiling strange, address unchecked keys or couches, trains or floors every exit opens more I don’t know who I’ll be by then new street carving through my head every night a borrowed breath I don’t know where I wake up next [VERSE II] [more movement, quicker phrasing] Taxi blurs and neon drips someone laughs I almost know language breaks into fragments still I let the current go backpack holds a half-life version of the person I just was leave it folded in a station take the echo, not the cause [PRE-CHORUS] [tighter, more internal] No fixed line, no defense just a body leaning into chance [CHORUS] [expand, slight grit] I don’t know where I’ll wake up next window fog or silhouette names dissolve in morning light wrong or right, it feels like right I don’t know what I’ll leave behind just impressions out of time every night a quiet theft I don’t know where I wake up next [BRIDGE] [dropout → sparse pulse, intimate] maybe I’m the thing that’s moving not the trains, not all these rooms maybe “lost” is just a language I’m still learning how to use [OUTRO] [fading, detached calm] Didn’t catch the name of the street— but it sounded like mine for a minute then it wasn’t
