The world is a radio turned up to ten
Static and sirens and "where have you been?"
I’m a kite in a gale, just a string in the sky
Looking for ground while the clouds pass me by.
But I pull on the handle and kick off my shoes
And the city dissolves like the evening news.
It’s not the lightning, it’s not the flare
It’s knowing you’re breathing the same dusty air.
It’s a cup on the table, a light in the hall
The one place the shadows don't feel quite so tall.
Love isn’t a storm or a thunderous boom
It’s finding the keys to the quietest room.
We’ve got the wrinkles and coffee-stained maps
The "maybe one days" and the "long-distance gaps."
I’ve seen your temper, you’ve seen my pride
There’s nowhere for us and our secrets to hide.
But there’s a grace in the mess and the Tuesday night rain
In the way that you know every inch of my pain.
They write all the poems about burning and gold
But nobody sings about growing old.
About the silence that’s comfortable, heavy, and sweet
Where the heart doesn't skip, it just finds a steady beat.
No, it’s not the lightning, it’s not the flare
It’s knowing you’re breathing the same dusty air.
It’s a cup on the table, a light in the hall
The one place the shadows don't feel quite so tall.
Love isn’t a storm or a thunderous boom
It’s finding the keys to the quietest room.
Yeah, the door’s always open.
The kettle is on.
The world can stay outside
Until the dawn.
In the quietest room...
With you.