I chipped a piece off the morning moon And slipped it in your coffee cup You said it tasted like a faded tune A record playin' in a shut-up shop I track the dust you leave on sills The phantom warmth on the passenger seat I know the syntax of your sighs And the prayers you whisper in your sleep I'm a collector of your almosts A curator of nearly-was I built a chapel in the static Of a phone that never buzz And I know this isn't loving It's archaeology in the dark But I'm the keeper of the blueprint To a house inside a spark Yeah, I'm obsessed With half of every ghost you left I've got a museum in the back of my mind Room one: the way you said my name that Tuesday Room two: the argument we never had But rehearsed perfectly anyway I re-write every conversation's end With the wisdom of the lonely and the slow I plant a garden in your absence And wait for things I'll never get to grow I'm a collector of your almosts A curator of nearly-was I built a chapel in the static Of a phone that never buzz And I know this isn't loving It's archaeology in the dark But I'm the keeper of the blueprint To a house inside a spark Yeah, I'm obsessed With half of every ghost you left They say love should be a window But baby, mine's a keyhole And I'm squinting at the glory Of a shadow on the wall If hunger is a compass Then my North is in the wanting And I'd rather have this haunting Than have nothing of you at all [(Outro/Chorus - Voice frayed, desperate, building)] I'm a collector! (A collector of your almosts) A curator! (Of nearly-was) I'm living in the fingerprint you didn't know you left on the glass! And this isn't loving! It's a religion made of maybe! It's a shrine inside a maybe! It's a life inside a maybe! I'm obsessed... I'm obsessed... I'm obsessed... With the dust of you... The echo of you... The idea of... ...you.
