Still We Are

No date marked on the wall, no first-year line,

we just drifted close and fell in time.

Between your late-night shifts and my machine hum,

somehow we meet when the world comes undone.

You smell like gin and city lights,

I smell of metal and sleepless nights,

but we find our peace in borrowed hours,

in quiet talks before the dawn devours.

And when the distance pulls us thin,

and all we’ve got are words and skin,

I still feel you, through the noise and fire,

you’re my calm, my wild desire.

We’re no cliché, we’re something rare,

not a love song on the radio air.

But we hold on tight, through the push and scar,

we’re two worlds apart — and still we are.

Through the barlight haze and factory sound,

we build a life that can’t be torn down,

no map, no plan, no star —

and still we are.

Your cat sleeps where my dog once lay,

they somehow learned to share their space.

And every time you crash at mine,

it feels like home in borrowed time.

We fight, we laugh, we lose, we find,

but never fall too far behind.

You’re the quiet when I overthink,

I’m the edge where you don’t sink.

And when I hear you through the line,

your tired voice still feels like mine,

I’d trade a hundred nights apart

for one slow morning, heart to heart.

We’re no cliché, we’re something rare,

not a love song on the radio air.

But we hold on tight, through the push and scar,

we’re two worlds apart — and still we are.

Through the barlight haze and factory sound,

we build a life that can’t be torn down,

no map, no plan, no star —

and still we are.

No ring, no rules, no need to prove,

just quiet love in all we do.

And maybe that’s the perfect kind —

a little lost, but intertwined.

We’re no cliché, we’re something rare,

not a love song, but I don’t care.

‘Cause what we’ve got outshines the scar,

we’re miles apart — and still we are.

Through the barlight haze and factory sound,

we build a love that won’t back down,

no map, no plan, no star —

and still we are…

yeah, still we are.