[Intro - spoken, low, close-mic] I kept your scarf in the back of the chair, like winter might bring you back there. [Verse 1] The kettle clicked at half past five, blue morning pressed against the blinds. Your note was folded by the sink, three words smudged where the coffee spilled. I wore the coat you left behind, found your train ticket in the lining. Every room knows what we were, I’m the only one who won’t say it first. [Pre-Chorus] If I could turn the lock one way, I’d keep that Tuesday from becoming yesterday. But the cold came through the frame, and nothing in this house stayed the same. [Chorus] You’re gone, but the cup still warms my hand, your name still fits the shape of this old plan. I walk the long way past your door, then count the steps I counted before. If love is leaving, tell me why it still wakes up when the trains go by? [Verse 2] The corner store replaced the sign, the cashier asked if you were fine. I said you moved, I didn’t say how far a heart can move away. Your photograph is facedown now, but I know every crease somehow. I hear your laugh in passing cars, then lose it near the laundromat. [Pre-Chorus] I learned the shape of empty space, the quiet pressure of an absent face. Still, when the evening settles in, I reach for where your shoulder’s been. [Chorus] You’re gone, but the cup still warms my hand, your name still fits the shape of this old plan. I walk the long way past your door, then count the steps I counted before. If love is leaving, tell me why it still wakes up when the trains go by? [Bridge - near-whisper, voice cracking] Don’t come back because you’re lonely. Don’t come back to make me whole. I’m learning how to hold the silence without handing it my soul. [Outro - spoken, fading, footsteps in snow, running fade into vinyl hiss] The snow covered my tracks before I reached the corner. I didn’t turn around. I almost did.
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