Lyric

Breath on the mic

Room in the dark

Hands in my pockets

Waiting to start

Suitcase by the doorframe

Still half unzipped

Maps on my phone screen

Names I can't grip

Border on my shoulder

Stamp on my skin

People saying "welcome"

I stay on the rim

There is no country in my chest

Just a small room, half-cleared desk

A folded shirt, an unpaid debt

I carry love and its silhouette

I walk through towns that call me guest

I answer smiles, I never rest

I hold you close, but I confess

I got no flag, no country in my chest

Photos on the fridge door

Faces, different light

Same tired expression

Strained, polite

I learn how to say it

"Fine, I'm fine"

Switching between languages

Mid-line

There is no country in my chest

Just a hallway, unaddressed

A paper cup, a crumpled check

Your name I hum under my breath

You ask me where I feel at best

I list the trains I haven’t left

I give you all that I have left

This open space, no country in my chest

I know every airport ceiling

Every plastic chair

I know how to disappear

While still standing there

I love like I'm returning

To where I never lived

Empty-handed, overflowing

Too much, not enough to give

There is no country in my chest

Just a soft ache, quiet nest

Your head asleep against my neck

Our future small and delicate

If home is only tenderness

Then maybe this is all that's left

I'll walk beside you, nothing else

Just these two hands

No country in my chest