At the end of the day I sit with a cup that’s gone cold Listening to the radiator hum like memories growing old Love came by my doorway now and then, but never stayed to rest I learned early there are people meant for holding, and some meant for being left Every letter I never finished still waits in a drawer unopened Like the conversations I rehearsed but never found the courage to begin I’ve walked through years like quiet hallways where the lights were always dim Kept my heart inside a jacket pocket, never offering it to them Some men are chosen early, some are found along the way I was the one the world overlooked, stepping softly out of frame (“out of frame… out of frame…”) There were nights I shared a table with a woman tired of waiting She said my silence felt like distance, and my distance felt like fading I held her hand like something borrowed that I feared I couldn’t keep When she walked away, it proved again I loved too careful, loved too weak (“loved too weak…”) Now the past sits like a worn-out coat across the back of this old chair Names I barely learned to cherish lost to years that didn’t care I’ve walked through years like quiet hallways where affection cooled to dust Every promise felt like something meant for someone stronger, someone just More willing to believe in chances I was too guarded to receive I lived my life as borrowed rooms I never settled long enough to leave (“mmm…”) There’s a box beneath the bed with tapes I made in younger days Songs about the man I wished to be before I learned his ways None of those recordings speak of love that ever grew Only half-finished confessions and a voice still unsure what to do (“still unsure…”) If regret could fill a ledger, mine would stack from floor to beam Lines of what I hoped for measured against the things I only dreamed Nobody ever called me home, nobody begged for me to stay I became the man who learned to leave before the light betrayed the day I’ve walked through years like quiet hallways where the echoes never warm Found my place in distant corners where the world forgets your form And if love was meant as shelter, it was never meant for me I was always just a passerby in rooms where hearts were free (“passerby…”) (“all the doors… all the doors I never entered…”)
