Down the silent road he walks, where the shadows used to speak, Every window holds a memory, every stone beneath his feet. He hears laughter from the alleys, echoes faded, torn and thin, Like a ghost of who he used to be and the worlds he carried within. Streetlights flicker like old dreams that never learned to die, They rise with every heartbeat, they fall like embers in the night sky. He once chased the sun with fire, with hope burning bright and wild, Now he just follows the quiet wind like a long-forgotten child. Oh, these echoes call him home, from the corners of the place he used to roam. Every step he takes, he hears time unfold, Like a story written in silver and gold. Oh, the silent road knows his name, And whispers softly that he’s still the same. A river of light flows down the street, reflecting who he was before defeat. He stops beside the old oak tree, carved initials fading slow, Two hearts promised forever— and forever letting go. The wind hums low, the sky bends wide, He breathes in the night with trembling pride. And somewhere between the dusk and dawn, he feels the weight of the years… and the strength to move on. Oh, these echoes call him home, even when he feels he walks alone. Light and shadow dance behind every door, reminding him who he is, and who he was before. Oh, the silent road leads him through, and in that quiet… he finds something true.
