Lyric

Late train home

Face in the window

All these towers

Floating in my eyes

Red brake lights

Drifting like fireflies

Every story

Stacked against the sky

Reflections through glass

Show me where I’ve been

All the roads behind

All the could-have-beens

City breathing slow

I am small at last

Finding pieces of myself

In reflections through glass

Soft rain trails

Rivers on the pane

Blur the distance

Turn it into paint

Your old name

Glows on my screen

Fades to black

Like it was only a dream

Reflections through glass

Show me where I’ve been

All the roads behind

All the could-have-beens

City breathing slow

I am small at last

Finding pieces of myself

In reflections through glass

I touch the cold surface

My hand over mine

Two versions staring

Across a thin line

Do I chase tomorrow

Or stay in this past?

Both of us waiting

On opposite sides of the glass