[Verse 1] Third drawer down in my old desk, Ticket stubs and a half‑played cassette. Polaroid—just half your smile, Folded note that says “just wait a while.” Small apartment, running late, Keys on the counter, hearts in debate. Candlelight, your breath on mine— We both knew we’d cross that line. [Pre‑Chorus] And every memory’s got a pulse, Every scar a little gold, Yeah, I still feel you like smoke in my clothes. [Chorus] Third drawer down, I go there, Shaking hands on midnight air. Every second humming louder than the sound, When I reached for the third drawer down. Third drawer down, still right there, Where my courage learned to care. Laughing through the silence we allowed, Every heartbeat hiding in that drawer right now. [Verse 2] Dried‑up pen, a faded note, Words we tried but never wrote. Key that doesn’t fit a door, Your old bracelet—nothing more. “Are you sure?” you asked again, I could feel forever then. That small blue square in my hand, Heavier than love could stand. [Bridge] I whisper, “slow it down… breathe…” (Soft falsetto) “This changes everything…” But my hand still lingers on your photograph, Like the air’s too thick to move it back. One deep breath, then shut the door— But I still find myself wanting more. [Chorus] Third drawer down, I go there, First times handled with care. Every secret we could never say out loud, Still echo in that third drawer now. Third drawer down, yeah, it’s there, That thin line between then and where. Laughing after, skin to skin somehow, Guess I’m stuck in the third drawer down.
