Freddie (Midnight Synthwave Mix)

+ Show full styles

V5.5

FREDDIE

Freddie wears the evening where the daylight used to be,
a little green beneath her sleeve, a little red beneath her cheek.
She comes without a footfall, leaves no shadow on the floor,
and every room remembers her a little less than before.
She knows the weight of silence, she knows the value of a name,
she keeps her little secrets where the moths have learned to pray.
I asked her what she wanted.
She only smiled at me.
Then the candle leaned toward her
like it knew what I couldn't see.

She never speaks of keeping.
She never speaks of loss.
She only turns the hourglass
and lets me count the cost.

Oh, Freddie,
don't you whisper so low.
There's a door in the darkness
and I already know.
Something sweet in the reckoning,
something warm in the fall
I could swear I heard you laughing
when the last bell called.

Oh, Freddie,
leave the window ajar.
I've been following your shadow
like a sailor follows a star.

She wears no crown but midnight,
no perfume but the rain,
and there is something of the graveyard
in the sweetness of her name.
Her fingers find the old wounds
like a pianist finds a key,
and every note she draws from me
is something I believed was buried deep.
She says, “You look familiar.”
I say, “Perhaps we've met.”
She says, “All men remember me.
They simply don't remember yet.”

The room grows strangely smaller.
The hour grows strangely thin.
She puts her lips beside my ear
and asks me to begin.

Oh, Freddie,
leave the window ajar.
I've been following your shadow
like a sailor follows a star.

She leaves a little circle
where the candle kissed the wood,
a mark as old as wanting
and as misunderstood.
I turn it in my fingers
and it shines beneath the flame
some things are only worthless
until somebody gives them a name.
She tells me, “Keep your fortune.”
I tell her, “Keep your lies.”
She laughs and draws the curtains
on the moon behind my eyes.

And somewhere in the house
a black wing strikes the wall.

Once for what was taken.
Twice for what was owed.

Three for what I thought was mine.

Then nothing.

Nothing at all.

Except Freddie in the doorway
with her hand upon the frame,
wearing Friday like a secret
and eternity like a name.

By morning she is nowhere.
By noon I doubt she came.
By dusk I find her lipstick
where I never knew her name.
Thursday brings the trembling,
the old familiar ache,
and Friday finds me waiting
before the heavens break.

She never has to call me.
She never has to ask.
Some doors are opened willingly.
Some debts are dressed as gifts.

Oh, Freddie,
leave the window ajar.
If you're fortune, you're a fever.
If you're freedom, you're a scar.

Oh, Freddie...

whoever you are.

3085/7500

FREDDIE Freddie wears the evening where the daylight used to be, a little green beneath her sleeve, a little red beneath her cheek. She comes without a footfall, leaves no shadow on the floor, and every room remembers her a little less than before. She knows the weight of silence, she knows the value of a name, she keeps her little secrets where the moths have learned to pray. I asked her what she wanted. She only smiled at me. Then the candle leaned toward her like it knew what I couldn't see. She never speaks of keeping. She never speaks of loss. She only turns the hourglass and lets me count the cost. Oh, Freddie, don't you whisper so low. There's a door in the darkness and I already know. Something sweet in the reckoning, something warm in the fall I could swear I heard you laughing when the last bell called. Oh, Freddie, leave the window ajar. I've been following your shadow like a sailor follows a star. She wears no crown but midnight, no perfume but the rain, and there is something of the graveyard in the sweetness of her name. Her fingers find the old wounds like a pianist finds a key, and every note she draws from me is something I believed was buried deep. She says, “You look familiar.” I say, “Perhaps we've met.” She says, “All men remember me. They simply don't remember yet.” The room grows strangely smaller. The hour grows strangely thin. She puts her lips beside my ear and asks me to begin. Oh, Freddie, don't you whisper so low. There's a door in the darkness and I already know. Something sweet in the reckoning, something warm in the fall I could swear I heard you laughing when the last bell called. Oh, Freddie, leave the window ajar. I've been following your shadow like a sailor follows a star. She leaves a little circle where the candle kissed the wood, a mark as old as wanting and as misunderstood. I turn it in my fingers and it shines beneath the flame some things are only worthless until somebody gives them a name. She tells me, “Keep your fortune.” I tell her, “Keep your lies.” She laughs and draws the curtains on the moon behind my eyes. And somewhere in the house a black wing strikes the wall. Once for what was taken. Twice for what was owed. Three for what I thought was mine. Then nothing. Nothing at all. Except Freddie in the doorway with her hand upon the frame, wearing Friday like a secret and eternity like a name. By morning she is nowhere. By noon I doubt she came. By dusk I find her lipstick where I never knew her name. Thursday brings the trembling, the old familiar ache, and Friday finds me waiting before the heavens break. She never has to call me. She never has to ask. Some doors are opened willingly. Some debts are dressed as gifts. Oh, Freddie, don't you whisper so low. There's a door in the darkness and I already know. Something sweet in the reckoning, something warm in the fall I could swear I heard you laughing when the last bell called. Oh, Freddie, leave the window ajar. If you're fortune, you're a fever. If you're freedom, you're a scar. Oh, Freddie... whoever you are.

0/500