Lyric

I hold a pair of scissors in my pocket

Dust on the mirror makes the light taste cold

Threads in the hallway hum like weak radio

I breathe and the wood floor answers in clicks

I thought the map lived in those silver lines

I thought the pull meant truth not habit

Your shadow nods from the window frame

My pulse unties one knot per step

If every string is tied to other hands

Then faith is just a marionette’s weather

I test the weight of my own ankles

The floor answers yes in a low tremor

Walk Without Strings

Walk Without Strings

I set my feet where the quiet begins

Walk Without Strings

Walk Without Strings

I am the path not the pins

Street signs flick a thin blue neon smell

Paper receipts fold like sleepy birds

I hear the city ticking under paint

I mark a rhythm in my heel and ribs

No puppeteer inside the traffic light

Only my pace steady as rain

Let the old script fall through the grate

Let the false knots loosen like steam

I fold the scissors pocket the shine

My steps write lines the strings can’t read

Walk Without Strings

Walk Without Strings

I set my feet where the quiet begins

Walk Without Strings

Walk Without Strings

I am the path not the pins