[Intro] [Instrumental: distant afternoon park ambience — faint birds, a child's voice far off; a single detuned music-box note, cello drone, dust and room tone] [Verse 1] The afternoon is pale and thin, she walks the park alone once more. Beyond the trees, a ruined shell that used to laugh behind its doors — and now the silence keeps the floor. [Pre-Chorus] She steps inside — the light stays there, a bright square breathing on the stair. [Chorus] One whole mirror on the wall, the only thing that didn't fall. I lean in close to find my face — a thousand thin cracks cross the glass. I turn to leave, I want the sun, but something holds me — I can't run. [Verse 2] The walls were white — she's sure they were — now grey as weather-beaten stone. The brick lies broken underfoot, the leavings of a life unknown; she walks the ruin on her own. [Pre-Chorus] And there, unhurt among the grey, one mirror holds the light of day. [Chorus] One whole mirror on the wall, the only thing that didn't fall. I lean in close to find my face — a thousand thin cracks cross the glass. I turn to leave, I want the sun, but something holds me — I can't run. [Bridge] She wants the door, she wants the air, she wants the ordinary sun. Her heels turn back, her toes stay put — the house has hands, and it's not done. And in the glass, a thousand roads all going where the light won't come. [Cello Solo] [Final Chorus] One whole mirror on the wall, the only thing that didn't fall. I leaned in close to find my face — a thousand thin cracks cross the glass. The doorway keeps its afternoon; I walk into the dark alone. [Outro] The light stays at the door. The glass forgets her face. Just her steps, going in, going in, going in... [Instrumental: music box and glass textures dissolving into room tone and distant park birds]
