The Shape of Home

Intro Verse 1 The sky came apart without warning, A seam unstitched above my head. I remember the hum of the engine, Then a ringing silence instead. The world below grew larger, Green and blue and wild with weather. I held my breath through the falling, Hoping somehow I’d stay together. Chorus Now I walk where nobody knows me, Under clouds that don’t know my face. Carrying rooms I can never return to, Carrying names time cannot replace. And every night I draw their outlines Across the dark with my eyes closed. Trying to remember the shape of home, Trying to remember the shape of home. Verse 2 Your oceans move like a sleeping animal, Your forests talk when the wind leans through. Everything here has a heartbeat, Even the things that don’t belong to you. I sit beside roads after midnight, Watching windows glow from afar. Wondering if someone is waiting The way I still wait where you are. Chorus Now I walk where nobody knows me, Under clouds that don’t know my face. Carrying rooms I can never return to, Carrying names time cannot replace. And every night I draw their outlines Across the dark with my eyes closed. Trying to remember the shape of home, Trying to remember the shape of home. Bridge Maybe distance isn’t measured By miles or years or empty space. Maybe it’s hearing a laugh in memory And forgetting the sound of a voice. Maybe somewhere they’re still talking, Leaving a chair for me by the door. Maybe they still think I’m coming back. Maybe that’s what hurts the most. Final Chorus Now I stand where nobody knows me, Yet somehow the days keep moving on. The trees grow familiar, the seasons return, The ache remains but softens some. Still every night I draw their outlines Across the dark with my eyes closed. Trying to remember the shape of home, Trying to remember the shape of home. Outro The sky came apart without warning. I never found the road I lost. But some mornings, when the light arrives, I can almost believe I’m not alone.