[Verse 1] I kept a map of every almost, folded small behind my eyes. One door led to a borrowed Sunday, one to names I never tried. I walked their halls in borrowed hours, learned each turn by heart and stayed; then dust came down on all the signposts, and the corridors gave way. [Pre-Chorus] The walls have lost their clever angles, the dead ends don’t demand a name. I can set the map beside me; I don’t owe those roads a claim. [Chorus] Goodbye to the lives I didn’t choose, to the rooms I never knew. You can rest beyond my reaching; I release the keys I held for you. This labyrinth keeps getting simpler— one clear path, one open hand. I let the almost fade from thinking; I am here, and here I stand. [Verse 2] There was a version in another town who took the train at twenty-two; one stayed quiet at the table, one said what I could not say to you. I don’t need to make them villains, or pretend they weren’t real; I can bless the doors behind me without asking them to yield. [Bridge] No more tracing every turning, no more living each refrain. What I didn’t do can be unfinished without becoming mine again. [Final Chorus] Goodbye to the lives I didn’t choose, to the rooms I never knew. You can rest beyond my reaching; I release the keys I held for you. This labyrinth keeps getting simpler— one clear path, one open hand. I let the almost fade from thinking; I am here, and here I stand. [Outro] One clear path. One open hand.
