2:22 on the clock, and I’m wide awake,
Ghosts of us replay like vinyl’s stuck in place.
Every streetlight flickers like it’s blinding lights,
But I can’t find the glow I saw in your eyes.
I’m stuck in the afterglow of what we knew,
Every midnight city feels haunted by you.
You were my melody, my “stay” in the storm,
Now silence is louder than when love was warm.
Funny how numbers can feel like fate,
But nothing can rewrite the mess we made.
I’m so sick of love songs, but they pull me in,
Every chorus cuts like it’s paper-thin.
2:22, is it me, is it you?
Is the universe saying our love’s not through?
Every angel number feels like déjà vu,
Another sign I’m still in love with you.
2:22, and the silence is loud,
The past in my chest, but you’re not around.
If heaven’s a signal, then baby it’s true,
At 2:22, I’m still missin’ you.
I still drive past your street, play that license track,
Like a time machine that won’t give you back.
You loved me then left me to lose you to love,
Now I’m prayin’ these numbers are a sign from above.
Every red light feels like someone you loved,
Every green light dares me to rise above.
But I circle the block like a song on repeat,
And it’s always your ghost in the passenger seat.
Maybe it’s a blessing, maybe it’s a curse,
Reading angel numbers while I’m writing these verse(s).
I try to forget, but it always breaks through,
At 2:22, all I see is you.
2:22, is it me, is it you?
Is the universe saying our love’s not through?
Every angel number feels like déjà vu,
Another sign I’m still in love with you.
2:22, and the silence is loud,
The past in my chest, but you’re not around.
If heaven’s a signal, then baby it’s true,
At 2:22, I’m still missin’ you.
Maybe good 4 u, maybe bad for me,
But these signs got me tangled in what used to be.
I hear echoes of promises we couldn’t keep,
Now they sing me to sleep, but they cut too deep.
And I’m so sick of love songs, so tired of tears,
So done with wishing you were still here.
2:22, I still picture your face,
Every sign in the sky just takes me to that place.
Maybe angel numbers are just a dream come true,
But at 2:22, all I see is you.
At 2:22… I still need you.
MIXEY
