[Verse 1] I wanted to move where the strobes make a pattern, but the body refuses, the hours just flatten. The dance is a distance I measure in dreams, a soundtrack of silhouettes stitched into seams. [Verse 2] I scroll through the photos of nights I’ve not taken, velvet and smoke in a world I awaken only through windows of flickering glass, the future arriving, the present won’t pass. [Chorus] So I lean on the records, the echoes they lend, an orchestra ghosting the life I won’t spend. I press my ear closer, the world disappears, the bassline collects all my wasted years. [Instrumental Breakdown] [Verse 3] The body is locked while the music is moving, it’s proof and refuse, it’s breaking, it’s soothing. Every refrain is a room I can borrow, a pulse in the night that outshadows tomorrow. [Verse 4] My hands never touch what the mirror is framing, small stolen gestures I keep on reclaiming. The crowd in the distance is smoke in a lung, their laughter a language I wish I had sung. [Chorus, whispered] So I lean on the records, the echoes they lend, an orchestra ghosting the life I won’t spend. I press my ear closer, the world disappears, the bassline collects all my wasted years. [Guitar Solo] [Bridge, low energy] And if time is a club, then I wait at the door, my ticket unread in a pocket I wore. The night is a myth that I rewrite alone, constructed of speakers, constructed of stone. [Outro, slow, muted] And still I am here with the speakers for company, time is a club that won’t open for some of me. The beat keeps repeating, the walls keep their glow, outside the darkroom, the night doesn’t know.
