(Verse 1)
Soft rain on the window, a theatre of glass
I count the quiet seconds that used to pass
Between your leaving footsteps and the echo of the door
Coffee gone cold on the kitchen floor
(Pre-Chorus)
I keep the light on for the shape of you
Trace the old playlist, play it through
(Chorus)
These are the melancholy moments that come like weather
Fold me in their grey, then leave me tethered
To the small, honest ache that remembers how we were
Whispering the lost lines of a love I still rehearse
(Verse 2)
A postcard with a corner torn, your scrawl in blue
A photograph that leans against the truth
I fold and unfold every could-have-been and why
Learn the grammar of goodbye
(Pre-Chorus)
The clock forgets to race, it learns to wait
I talk to empty rooms like they might answer back
(Chorus)
These are the melancholy moments that come like weather
Breathe on my skin, then vanish like a letter
Leaving fingerprints of light on the windowpane of me
Mapping where you left and where I couldn’t be
(Instrumental Break
(Instrumental: piano motif carries melody; strings enter on second phrase; brief guitar arpeggio answers))
(Bridge)
I build small altars out of little things you left behind
A ticket stub, a dried-out pen, a verse misaligned
I vow to set them free but keep one for the ache
So memory won’t learn to break
(Quiet Chorus)
These melancholy moments, soft as winter feathers
Hold me close, then scatter in my weather
I sing the hush between the beats, the hush you made a home
In every sigh that’s come and gone
(Final Chorus Big)
These are the melancholy moments that teach me how to stay
Rewrite the map of hollow rooms into a way
To keep the door ajar for sunlight, not for sorrow’s claim
Learning to love the echo, learning to say your name
(Outro)
Soft rain on the window, the theatre of glass
I fold the quiet seconds and let them pass
