[intro] the fireworks ended, but the smoke never left. July wrote your name across the sky and burned it into my chest. now every dawn feels borrowed, every breath half-paid. the mirror shows a man rebuilt from what the flames betrayed. [verse 1] I still walk the trails we carved in frost, where your laughter froze midair. the pines don’t echo anymore— they just stare. the whiskey glass still sweats your ghost, the fire pit hums your tune. I swear I saw your hand in the static of the moon. [pre-chorus] grief learned my heartbeat’s timing, turned each inhale to a prayer. I keep pretending motion while my soul’s still back there. [chorus 1] this is the last blink, the frame before you fade. a thousand memories flicker, but none of them stay. love doesn’t end— it mutates in the light. I still see your face in the hum between night. [verse 2] they say time heals, but they’ve never met mine. it’s a loop of July fourth echoes and hospital chimes. Nala still waits by the window, head tilted at the wind. I whisper your name through bourbon, just to feel it again. [guitar break – slow blues solo over swelling synth] [bridge] I’ve died a thousand smaller deaths, each one pretending it’s peace. but I’ve learned: the pain doesn’t kill you— it keeps you on your knees. your voice still hums through thunder, through engines and tears. it tells me: breathe, brother, you’re still here. [chorus 2] the last blink, where the soul uploads to light. where ashes become frequency, and silence learns to write. you’re not gone, just broadcast somewhere higher. I’m tuning in through static, caught between grief and fire. [outro – orchestral fade, fading synth arpeggios, single held note of “blink” dissolving into rain] if this is forever, then forever’s just a sound— the space between our voices where love still circles round. and in that hum, in that ache, I’ll find you. in the last blink.
