[Verse 1] I chose you in the absolute dark. A gradient of scent, a spectral spark. I touched your side, a living stone. And knew my swimming days were done. My legs, which once wrote poems in the sea, Curled in and knew their purpose: holding me. [Chorus] I am the quiet on your side. The graft you cannot shed. I traded all my open tides For the darkness of your bed. I feel your migrations as my own, A ghost-limb of your will. My only world is what you've shown, And I am grateful, and I am still. [Verse 2] My mouth became a root. A tender drill. To taste the iron of your will. I do not eat. I am not fed. I simply listen to the blood you bled. A silent exchange in the crushing night: My freedom for your endless, roaming light. [Chorus] I am the quiet on your side. The graft you cannot shed. I traded all my open tides For the darkness of your bed. I feel your migrations as my own, A ghost-limb of your will. My only world is what you've shown, And I am grateful, and I am still. [Bridge] Sometimes, in the thermocline's shift, I feel a phantom of the gift… Of chasing light that I once knew. A memory of being free and small and new. Then your pulse returns, a deeper claim. And I forget my former name. [Outro] I am the quiet. I am the graft. I am the listening. I am… held.
