I passed a payphone still glued to the wall
Like a preacher who stayed through the church’s downfall
It rang once, then stopped — I just stared like a ghost
Some messages reach you when you need them the most
I met a man selling stars out of jars
Said, “You can light up your room or just leave them in cars”
He hummed like a dial tone, cracked like a flame
Said, “Nothing is real, but it feels just the same”
And I’m not asking for answers
Just a little more static to drown out the shame
There’s a voice in the distance
Like a radio in the rain
Yeah, it flickers and stumbles
Like a radio in the rain
There’s a train that don’t run but still whistles at night
Like an old melody that I forgot how to write
I sit by the window, let the headlights pretend
That I’m moving somewhere I won’t have to defend
And the world keeps turning like a used carousel
Paint chipping off horses, but the music still swells
I keep checking my pockets for some kind of map
But all I keep finding is lint and I laugh
I’m not searching for meaning
Just a moment of calm that I don’t have to name
There’s a hum in the silence
Like a radio in the rain
Yeah, it cracks and it falters
Like a radio in the rain
So here’s to the noise and the things we outgrow
To the signals we send but don’t ever decode
To the songs on the static that help us remain
Like a radio,
In the rain