Lyric

At dusk the room learns my name

A cracked cup holds the last of the rain

Your postcard burns at the edges

And the flame writes a small yes

No silver rescue

No clean return

Just a warm scar

And a page that won’t turn

Cinder season, cinder season

Some hearts glow best at the ending

Cinder season, cinder season

Even ash can keep a shape

A train map sleeps on the table

Boot prints by the door keep their faith

The ceiling fan turns slow halos

While the night slips through the seams

No one called it forever

Still the air stayed sweet

A bruise of gold on the windows

And a pulse under my sleeve

When the rain goes thin, it leaves a kind of gold

When the room goes still, the hard parts start to show

Cinder season, cinder season

What breaks can keep a glow

If names drift loose

Let them drift

If tomorrow comes

Let it bring a different script

Not a cure

Not a cure

Just a hand on the dark

And a small bright spark

Cinder season, cinder season

No clean skies, just this wanting

Cinder season, cinder season

Still the dark knows where to part

Cinder season, cinder season

Hands empty, still holding

Cinder season, cinder season

Bittersweet, and beating hard