[VERSE 1]
i write things down and lose them
like they were never meant to stay
half of me remembers clearly
the other half walks away
there’s a version of me in silence
that i don’t introduce in rooms
she speaks in smaller sentences
and leaves before she’s proved
[PRE-CHORUS]
nothing loud enough to break
nothing sharp enough to show
just the quiet kind of knowing
people don’t always notice grow
[CHORUS]
these are glass notes in my pocket
light enough to disappear
every time i try to hold them
they sound different in the air
and i don’t call it meaning
i don’t call it mine
just something that keeps arriving
at the wrong time
[VERSE 2]
i notice how people soften
when they think they’re understood
so i practise being neutral
like it does some kind of good
there are words i almost use
then decide against the shape
like truth is something fragile
that i’m careful not to break
[PRE-CHORUS 2]
no confession in the middle
no turning point or sign
just the habit of observing
what I don’t define
[CHORUS 2]
these are glass notes in my pocket
held too lightly to remain
every time i try to name them
they change again
and i don’t call it distance
i don’t call it truth
just the way things sound different
when they pass through you
[BRIDGE]
if you asked me what it means
i’d probably say “nothing much”
and mean it in a way
that means too much
[FINAL CHORUS]
these are glass notes in my pocket
and i let them fall through me
never sharp enough to warn me
just enough to be
and i don’t need to hold them
for them to exist
they’re just the quiet things I carry
that don’t insist
[OUTRO]
i forget them as i write them
and that’s how they stay
Rin
