Verse 1
Morning breaks like a verdict on the floor
Sunlight finds the cracks we tried to ignore
Coffee cools beside an empty chair
Your shadow lingers in the stale, thin air
I wake to echoes of a conversation dead
Words like loose teeth rattling in my head
The house remembers what we tried to bury deep
Now every corner wakes me from my sleep
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Pre‑Chorus
I trace the outline of a life that used to be
Fingers on the glass, but nothing answers me
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Chorus
Awakened, a tragedy, written on the walls
A quiet catastrophe that never calls
We built a world of paper, fragile and thin
Now the wind reads the lines and lets the sorrow in
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Verse 2
Photographs like fossils in a drawer
Smiles preserved but the light is poor
Your laugh is a ghost that knows the route
It slips between the curtains and refuses to go out
I walk the rooms like a man in a play
Reciting lines that never learned to stay
Every step a footnote to what we lost
Counting the cost of every cost
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Pre‑Chorus
The clock keeps honest time, it never lies
It marks the distance between our alibis
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Chorus
Awakened, a tragedy, written on the walls
A quiet catastrophe that never calls
We built a world of paper, fragile and thin
Now the wind reads the lines and lets the sorrow in
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Bridge
If grief had a language, it would speak in small things
The cup you left, the song that no longer sings
I try to stitch the silence with a trembling thread
But the needle breaks and the fabric sheds
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Breakdown
No thunder, no blame, just the slow reveal
A thousand tiny losses that refuse to heal
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Final Chorus
Awakened, a tragedy, carved into the day
A soft, relentless tide that pulls the light away
We built a world of paper, and it folded like a sin
Now the wind reads the lines and lets the sorrow in
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Outro
I close the door on the room where we began
Leave the light on for a ghost I cannot stand
Awakened, I carry what the morning gave to me
A quiet, patient grief—an uninvited company