Hook:
I can’t forget you — your name’s a hymn beneath my skin,
a velvet echo in the hush where every night begins.
I can’t forget you — moonlight traces where you’ve been,
and even when I’m breathing, I’m still learning to be without you in.
Verse 1:
City lights fold open, like your memory in a room,
soft shadows leaning closer, tasting dusk like perfume.
I try to fold the mornings, tuck them under other songs,
but every chorus finds your shape and hums where you belong.
Your laugh’s a slow confession that my silence can’t undo,
I move through crowded spaces and the world keeps calling you.
Hook:
I can’t forget you — your name’s a hymn beneath my skin,
a velvet echo in the hush where every night begins.
I can’t forget you — moonlight traces where you’ve been,
and even when I’m breathing, I’m still learning to be without you in.
Verse 2:
I keep a little light on, like hope’s a fragile tattletale,
it flickers with the rhythm of your footsteps in the hall.
There’s a warmth in every doorway that remembers how you stood,
leaning like a promise that once felt understood.
I whisper small forgiveness to the margins of my mind,
but every quiet hour finds the way you used to find.
Hook:
I can’t forget you — your name’s a hymn beneath my skin,
a velvet echo in the hush where every night begins.
I can’t forget you — moonlight traces where you’ve been,
and even when I’m breathing, I’m still learning to be without you in.
Verse 3:
I trace the seam of daylight where your silhouette would fall,
practice saying "moving on" until the words are not so small.
But softness is a language that your absence does not know,
it leaves a gentle bruise that colors everything I show.
I keep a secret photo folded where the mornings meet the night,
it’s an honest kind of memory that still feels like candlelight.
Hook:
I can’t forget you — your name’s a hymn beneath my skin,
a velvet echo in the hush where every night begins.
I can’t forget you — moonlight traces where you’ve been,
and even when I’m breathing, I’m still learning to be without you in.
Verse 4:
Sometimes I wear the silence like a suit I cannot fill,
other times I let the city play our theme against my will.
I’m learning how to steady when the music drops your name,
to find a softer version of myself that’s worthy of the flame.
If love’s a kind of falling, then I’m learning how to land,
keep the echo as a comfort and not something that commands.
Hook:
I can’t forget you — your name’s a hymn beneath my skin,
a velvet echo in the hush where every night begins.
I can’t forget you — moonlight traces where you’ve been,
and even when I’m breathing, I’m still learning to be without you in.
Outro:
So I fold another sunrise, let the chorus take its time,
hold the echo like a promise that will teach me how to rhyme.
I can’t forget you — and maybe that’s the truth I keep,
a softness for a memory that rocks me even as I sleep.
Porque music
Otro
porquemusicOtro
