Lyric

Under the atrium at two-fifteen

Terrazzo floor with a glass-clean gleam

A boarding pass folded into halves

Chrome reflections on magazine graphs

Gate C9 in a quiet green blink

Coffee steam and a cool mint drink

Charcoal coats in a satin row

Everyone moving at a private tempo

Hold that line, let the stillness glow

Keep your eyes on the board below

Soft blue code, clear and bright

One last breath before the flight

No need to chase, no need to prove

Let the hush become your groove

If the night was made to stay

We can lift it anyway

Taxi lights in numbered rows

Jet bridge breath as the cabin closes

Glass atrium, amber frame

Every face in a different name

Stamped in ink, sealed in chrome

No fixed map, but still a home

Paper edges, folded neat

Watch the morning learn to speak

Now the lounge has changed its skin

Citrus peel and silent screens

Luggage tags in a lacquer line

Moonlit menus, soft design

A pale horizon on the glass

Slow as smoke, but built to pass

All that buzz I used to know

Feels like static turned down low

Hold that line, keep it light

Golden numbers on the departure board

Soft blue code, thin and clear

Let the next day settle here

Less about speed, more about lift

Less about noise, more about drift

If the hush was made to stay

I can let it lead the way

Taxi lights in amber rows

Jet bridge breath and the cabin glows

Glass atrium, rising day

Pulling the dark into a softer gray

Cabin lights, low and warm

All that static losing form

One clean breath, no need to prove

Just the quiet before the move

Past the pane, the cloudbank bends

A pale front line where the night suspends

No countdown here, no need to race

Just a held breath, just open space

One door closes, one light turns

And the whole wide frame still learns

To carry this, without a name

Into the morning all the same

Taxi lights in amber rows

Jet bridge breath and the cabin glows

Glass atrium, rising day

Pulling the dark into a softer gray

Cabin lights, low and warm

All that static losing form

One clean breath, no need to prove

Just the quiet before the move

Dawn on the glass, slowly washed

Gate lights dim, the city softens

Nothing loud to hold onto

Just the shape of moving through