[Verse 1] He walks in and the whole room chills, like winter bends to his will. Black coat, white shirt, smoke on the collar, eyes say don’t go any farther. His laugh cuts sharp like broken glass, every step like a threat that passed. They see a man that’s built from steel, but something underneath won’t heal. Matches flare and the night runs fast, women read him, a habit that lasts. Whatever he touches dies on skin, whatever he kisses won’t sink in. He plays god where the damage grows, bleeding in places nobody knows. [Pre-Chorus] He plays the rock, he plays the wolf, like nothing ever got through. But when the lights and voices fade, he’s just a man he can’t get through. [Chorus] He’s a storefront, glass and light, gold outside, inside landslide. Says “I don’t break,” but breaks slow, every dawn he’s alone again. He’s a storefront, flesh and smoke, fire on his lips, soul’s a choke. They call him god when he walks through walls, but inside him the whole sky falls. [Verse 2] In the elevator, head hangs low, no applause, no one to know. The key turns slow like it fears the lock, door swings wide to a house gone dark. A jacket waits on a wooden chair, two shadows move, nobody there. Half a glass, a silent room, life echoes like a hollow tomb. The TV talks but it’s not for him, every light just fades to dim. Cold water drips from a borrowed face, but the night still owns that empty place. They think he’s stone, they think he’s blade, but he’s just a child nobody saved. [Pre-Chorus] He plays the man who never needs, never bends and never pleads. But there’s a hole deep in his chest, everything he throws won’t rest. [Chorus] He’s a storefront, glass and light, gold outside, inside landslide. Says “I don’t break,” but breaks slow, every dawn he’s alone again. He’s a storefront, flesh and smoke, fire on his lips, soul’s a choke. They call him god when he walks through walls, but inside him the whole sky falls. [Bridge] And when he stands at the mirror alone, he sees no king, just weight and bone. Not a legend, not a beast, just a man trying not to choke on grief. A child with his teeth locked tight in pain, wearing the dark just to hide the stain. A king with no kingdom left to hold, climbing so high while losing his soul. [Final Chorus] He’s a storefront, walls and light, built like steel but breaks at night. Says “I won’t fall,” but falls unseen, before the world can read the scene. He’s a storefront, smoke and glass, an empty empire built to last. And if one night you see him fade, he was gone long before he fades.
