(Verse 1) You aren’t the radio’s tired, worn-out refrain, Or the predictable chords of a summer rain. You’re the syncopated breath before the beat, The quiet hum of pavement in the heat. If you were a love song, you’d be the bridge, The sudden shift in key, the mountain ridge Where the melody climbs to a desperate height, Before falling back into the soft of the night. (Chorus) Oh, if you were a love song, I’d memorize the score, Every accidental sharp, every open door. I wouldn’t need a needle to find the groove, I’d just watch the way you breathe, the way you move. You’re the lyric that I never dared to write, The only song I’d play through the longest night. (Verse 2) You’re not the chorus that everyone knows, Or the easy rhyme that the radio shows. You’re the B-side track that nobody found, The beautiful ache of a ghost of a sound. If you were a love song, you’d be the rest, The silence held deep in a hollowed chest, A tempo that slows when the world moves too fast, A composition built to be the last. (Bridge) And if the record skips, I’ll stay right here, Tracing the scratches that make you so dear. For in the static, I hear your name, A song that burns with a different flame. (Chorus) Oh, if you were a love song, I’d memorize the score, Every accident
