[Chorus] [Melodic, female soprano vocals] The unspoken rhythm, no map, no name, just the way they move together through the ordinary strange. The unspoken rhythm — this is how they live, this is what they give. [Chorus] [Melodic, female soprano vocals] The unspoken rhythm, no map, no name, just the way they move together through the ordinary strange. The unspoken rhythm — this is how they live, this is what they give. [Bridge] [Rap, male baritone vocals] Morning came with bacon and Sylvia's gentle knock — Gabi groaned into the pillows, hair wild from the clock. Cab to Mariain's, a text: might miss you — the bag already packed, the room already knew. Outside the gallery, thirty seconds, arms and fabric — safe flight — I'll message when we land — then taillights into the afternoon, six hours of southern sky, Bogotá lights like broken glass scattered on the plateau ground, Alicia rushing up the stairs, arms open, spinning round. [Chorus - Outro] [Melodic, female soprano vocals] The unspoken rhythm, no map, no name, just the way they move together through the ordinary strange. The unspoken rhythm — exhibitions come and go, but this is what survives. The unspoken rhythm, low and sure, the particular light, the particular door — Mariain walking back through the Village, Gabi on his shoulder, the city holding all of it, the way it always has.
