Ghostlight

[Intro – soft ambient guitar + breathing bassline]
Streetlights blink like memories.
Each one a heartbeat I forgot I had.
The night doesn’t judge anymore—
it just listens.

[Verse 1 – low male vocal with echo]
I walk past the ghosts of my old reflection,
faces of who I used to be.
They nod as if to say, you made it,
but their eyes still ache like mine.
I used to fear the dark,
now it’s where I heal.
Silence taught me what love couldn’t:
how to stay when no one will.

[Pre-Chorus – gentle falsetto layer]
Light doesn’t always mean hope;
sometimes it just means you’re seen.
And being seen is enough tonight.

[Chorus – uplifting groove with sax and beat]
Ghostlight on my skin,
flicker me alive again.
I’m half-shadow, half-soul,
but somehow that’s whole.
Every step, a quiet spark—
proof that I’m still here in the dark.

[Verse 2 – spoken rhythm over groove]
The world moves slow after heartbreak.
You stop chasing noise
and start hearing rhythm in your pulse.
I learned peace in motion,
learned grace in pause.
I forgave the wind
for taking what it must.

[Bridge – instrumental + male harmony hums]
Trumpet breathes where words once failed,
guitar cries softly into rain.
There’s beauty in being broken
when you shine anyway.

[Chorus – reprise with layered vocals]
Ghostlight on my skin,
flicker me alive again.
I don’t need the dawn tonight—
this glow is mine to keep.
No more running from the dark,
I’ve learned to let it speak.

[Outro – ambient fade / soft rain and breath]
Somewhere between shadow and flame,
I found a rhythm that forgives.
Maybe that’s what love really is—
a ghost that teaches you to live.

Male vocal, lo-fi indie-soul jazz fusion with guitar and sax, slow beat, hopeful cinematic emotional tone