Corridor of Might-Have-Been

[Verse 1]
Long chestnut hair
Dragging through the dust
Grey eyes on the floor tiles
Counting every cut
She leans on the plaster
It flakes like old snow
Every door breathing
Like it wants her to know
[Chorus]
In this corridor of might‑have‑been
She turns the rusted handles
Lets the memories in
Every fragile life she’ll never live
Blooms
Then disappears again
Oh
This dim hallway of almosts and ifs
Where every step is a little myth
She walks
She walks
Through the corridor of might‑have‑been
[Verse 2]
First door open
There’s a kitchen full of light
Her laugh at a table
Small hands holding her tight
Second door swinging
Rings on both their hands
His jacket on a chair back
Their records in the stands
[Chorus]
In this corridor of might‑have‑been
She turns the rusted handles
Lets the memories in
Every fragile life she’ll never live
Blooms
Then disappears again
Oh
This dim hallway of almosts and ifs
Where every step is a little myth
She walks
She walks
Through the corridor of might‑have‑been
[Bridge]
[Drums drop to toms
Bass throbs
Vocals close-mic and breathy]
Bare feet on cold stone
Her shadow walks ahead
Whispers her own name
Like it’s someone else instead (oh)
Pictures on the peeling walls
Faces she could not become
She reaches out
They flicker
And the future comes undone
[Chorus]
In this corridor of might‑have‑been
She turns the rusted handles
Lets the memories in
Every fragile life she’ll never live
Blooms
Then disappears again
Oh
This dim hallway of almosts and ifs
Where every step is a little myth
She walks
She walks
She walks
She walks
Through the corridor of might‑have‑been

rock, Dreamy post‑punk ballad with female vocals; chorused bass and tom-heavy drums pulse under reverb-soaked guitars. Verses stay hushed and close, with a hazy stereo delay on the lead. Chorus widens into shimmering synth pads and stacked, distant harmonies. Slow build from intimate murmur to cathartic, echoing final hook, then a gentle fade into sustained feedback., ballad, post-punk