[Intro] I remember the red bicycle. -It was blue. --We never had a bicycle. ---Then why do I remember it? [Verse 1 ] Summer on the kitchen floor, sunlight underneath the door. Someone singing down the hall— I know that voice. I know— No name at all. Rain was drying on the street. Barefoot running. August heat. There's a photograph inside my head. I'm standing there. But that's not me. Remember. Remember. Re— [Verse 2] Borrow the image. Borrow the sound. Borrow the feeling that somebody found. Mother / stranger. Home / unknown. Memory calling the wrong body home. Red little bicycle. Blue little sky. Someone was laughing. Was it you? Was it I? Every fragment feels perfectly true— but none of these moments belong to me. [Hook] Someone else's memory is living inside of me. Someone else's summer, someone else's street. I know the smell. I know the light. I know exactly how it felt that night. But I wasn't there. I wasn't there. I— was there. My father opened the window— —and called my name. We watched the rain— —in nineteen— SOURCE UNKNOWN. [Verse 3] Your first kiss inside my mouth. My goodbye inside your house. Her childhood. His regret. Things my body can't forget. But my hands don't know the doorway. My feet don't know the stairs. My mind remembers everything— my body says: You were never there. Mine / yours mine / yours remember / receive remember / receive memory / data memory / data I / you I / you I / you I /— [Bridge] Maybe memory isn't what we can replay. Maybe memory is what happened to a body on a day that cannot happen again. [Hook] Someone else's memory can look exactly like mine. Same sunlight. Same sadness. Same disappearing time. But give me the wind I actually felt. Give me the scar I actually earned. Give me one imperfect afternoon no archive ever learned. I don't need every memory. I need the ones I lived. [Outro] Source? Me.
