Lyric

Morning in the sink

A spoon and a torn receipt

Rain in the window

Carrying the shape of sleep

One small cut of light

On the edge of the table

Your name in the dust

Gone as soon as spoken

Every room remembers

Every chair leans in

The air turns sweeter

Then turns hard again

Stay in the ash, stay in the ache

This heart keeps score of every break

Some things bloom late, some never do

Still this hush belongs to two

Last train on the hill

A coat tossed over a chair

Half of a goodbye

Still hanging in the stair

The kettle lost its voice

Before the water answered

Moon on the window

Like a coin in the gutter

Every room remembers

Every plate, every floor

What left in a hurry

Never leaves the door

A cup with no rim

A song with no end

Hands that almost

Become hands again

Small ruin, sweet ruin

Kept under the tongue

What was never spoken

Still makes the lungs hum

If the glass turns dark

Let the dark be kind

If the door stays shut

Let the frame still shine

One bruise of gold

At the edge of night

Enough to show

What the rain left behind

Morning in the sink, and the ache returns

A softer kind of fire as the last light burns

No clean escape, no perfect clue

Still this hush belongs to two