[Verse 1] There’s a hush before decisions form, where the air holds its breath and the self becomes a question. Flickers of half-lived thoughts tangle like wind in curtains, neither memory nor future, only presence dissolving. [Verse 2] Not every silence is empty. Some are weighted with color, with tension, with the slow collapse of certainty into something more fluid. You trace a line not meant to last, still believing in its curve. [Pre-Chorus] If there is beauty, it’s not in the moment but in the way we hesitate before stepping into it. [Chorus] This is not the turning, but the echo before it subtle and unsustained. A thought left unfinished, a pulse out of rhythm. The shape of change isn’t a crash it’s a drift. [Bridge] The shift never announces itself. It arrives disguised as stillness, as a breath not taken. And we, always searching for thunder, miss the storm’s quiet beginning. [Verse 3] You carry it without knowing this newness gathering in the folds of routine. It hums under casual things the way the sun lands on a different part of the wall. A softness before rupture. [Chorus] This is not the turning, but the echo before it subtle and unsustained. The shape of change isn’t a crash it’s a drift. And we are always drifting. [Outro – Instrumental, Saxophone solo]
