[Verse 1] [The vocal enters, quiet, weary, and slightly raspy. No percussion yet. The guitar remains sparse.] I rearranged the living room again last night. Couldn't sleep, with the moon acting as a blinding light. It’s not that I thought it would change a single thing. I just… needed to move something. Anything. I found a button from your coat behind the armchair. And for a moment, I swear, I forgot you weren't here. Then the memory came back in, not like a wave, but a slow, rising tide. And I just sat on the hardwoods and cried. [Chorus] [A soft, brushed snare drum enters, keeping slow time. The vocal gains a little more strength, a raw confession.] And this guilt is a quiet tenant in this house that is my chest. It doesn’t scream or shout, it just refuses me my rest. It points out all the cracks in every choice I made. And I don't know the rent, or the price I have to pay. I just know it’s not leaving. It’s decided it will stay. [Verse 2] [The drum pulls back to just the hi-hat. The guitar picks up a simple arpeggio pattern. The vocal is conversational, tired.] I tried to call you about a dozen times today. My finger on the button, but I had no words to say. What could I possibly offer that would ever be enough? “Sorry” is just a bandage on a wound that’s still so rough. I saw a movie you’d have liked, and I laughed at the worst part. Then immediately felt wrong for having a lightness in my heart. It’s a sickness, I suppose, this need to self-destroy. To cling to the hurt, to forfeit every joy. [Chorus] [The full, brushed drum kit returns. The vocal is more strained, more urgent.] Yeah, this guilt is a quiet tenant in this house that is my chest! It doesn’t scream or shout, it just refuses me my rest! (My rest) It points out all the cracks in every choices I made And I don't know the rent, or the price I have to pay. I just know it’s not leaving. It’s decided it will stay. [Bridge] [The music strips back to almost nothing. Just a single, sustained piano note and the faintest guitar string hum. The vocal is a broken whisper, spoken more than sung.] And I know… I know forgiveness is the key. But it’s on a ring… I threw into a sea… of my own making. I’m not asking for a way out. I think I’m just… telling you. I’m just telling you it’s in here with me. [Outro] [The guitar returns to the intro motif, even slower now. The vocal is fragmented, fading.] It just… refuses my rest… In my chest… It stays… [The final guitar note is played and left to fade into complete silence.] …It stays.
