Lyric

Evening is a metaphor made of the past

I’m riding on somebody’s back, moving fast

Not walking the road home, slipping through light

On the darker side of glow, I’m crying out of sight

I’m crying where summer leaves gaps in the air

Like the body heat of a cat that was never there

I slide my hand into that lukewarm space

In the end, maybe nothing was there to trace

Life was probably empty, yeah, that’s the deal

Just an engine too dumb to know what it feels

Same RPM, same rotation every day

Calibrated just to learn how to stay

Hey, you’re okay, right?

That’s what I tell you tonight

You’ve been living haunted by a goodbye letter left behind

Possessed by it forever, looping in your mind

And because you lived dragging that weight along

I decided to call that whole thing “life,” not wrong

Dear summer of the failed attempt

And the phone trees shaking with panic-sent texts

The sharp shine of blades that kept me alive

The glimmer that cut without taking my life

Hemp rope fantasies, neckties in thought

All those tools that almost did what they’re taught

But they pulled me down hard from that hidden back

From the shoulders concealed in the sunset’s crack

Dragged me out of the orange, the beautiful lie

From the place where it’s easy to quietly die

Evening burned like it knew my name

Like it archived my body inside its flame

I didn’t walk home, I was carried instead

By memory, by metaphor, by things unsaid

Behind the light, where the crying stays

I learned how living just repeats its phase

Same dumb engine, still running me through

Still saying “it’s fine,” like engines do

But I survived being tied to that letter’s ghost

So I named that survival “life,” at most

Dear summer, dear network of worried calls

Dear glittering edges and tightening thoughts

You didn’t end me—you pulled me down

From a borrowed back, from a burning town

And here I am, still dragged but breathing somehow

Still speaking in metaphors, still here, now