[Verse 1] I keep a brass key in the sugar bowl, though it fits no door we own. You laugh when I fish it out for tea; I love that laugh. I hate being known. At lunch I buy the cake with the split seam, then scrape the icing clean with a fork. For ten sweet minutes, I’m somebody who doesn’t have to explain the wanting. [Pre-Chorus] I know the trick; I know the receipt. Still, the little bell rings in my chest. [Chorus] I love this room, the mug with the chipped blue lip, your socks drying crooked by the vent. And I keep trying keys in the life I didn’t pick, just to hear a different lock give in. If I leave, I lose the hand that reaches for mine; if I stay, I wonder what I’ve left unopened. I’m grateful, I’m restless—both can be true, and neither one tells me what to do. [Verse 2] A coat on credit, a train ticket north, a stranger’s grin held warm in my phone. I spend, I flirt, I taste the new place— then bring you back a pastry for home. It’s not that you’re lacking. It’s worse, maybe: you’re kind, and I’m bored, and I’m ashamed. I can be generous with one hand while the other keeps a key unclaimed. [Bridge] Maybe the brass is from some old drawer; maybe I like its weight more than its use. I hold it while you tell me about your day. I’m here. I’m elsewhere. I’m listening, too. [Chorus] I love this room, the mug with the chipped blue lip, your socks drying crooked by the vent. And I keep trying keys in the life I didn’t pick, just to hear a different lock give in. If I leave, I lose the hand that reaches for mine; if I stay, I wonder what I’ve left unopened. I’m grateful, I’m restless—both can be true, and neither one tells me what to do.
