Beneath a moon that forgot how to shine, I drag my shadow through streets without time. The night knows my name, but it won't speak aloud, I walk through the silence beneath a dead cloud. A whisper of footsteps, a cold windowpane, A heart full of ghosts beating under the rain. The stars look away as I wander alone, Searching for somewhere that feels like a home. Wandering pulse, beating slow, Down where the broken dreamers go. No light above, no warmth below, Just a heart that refuses to let go. I buried my wishes beneath dying trees, Fed all my prayers to the merciless breeze. The wind carried pieces of who I had been, And left me with echoes of everything dim. There are voices that sleep in the walls of my mind, Old wounds wearing faces I cannot unwind. They call from the dark with a soft, hollow sound, Like lost little angels beneath frozen ground. Wandering pulse, bleeding black, Every road leads me further back. I chase the dawn, but the dawn won't stay, It slips through my fingers and dies into gray. Perhaps I was born for the edge of the night, A creature of shadows afraid of the light. Perhaps every heart has a darkness to bear, A secret it carries like smoke in the air. So let the cold rain fall over me, Let it wash away what I used to be. If I vanish where the midnight calls, Let my wandering pulse haunt these walls. Wandering pulse, don't fade away, Keep beating through the dying day. Even if heaven forgets my name, I'll walk through the dark— And burn without flame.
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