Lyric

Empty bench is catching drops from the neon glow

Pavement hums beneath the echo of my shoes

Overhead, the clouds are brushing silver arcs

Every line is bending toward the dawn

One more minute, headlights or the dark

Either way the air will pull me through

All the maps are folding in my pocket seam

But my hands are not as cold as before

If I wait here, will the night still hold me?

If I go now, will the light let me through?

Every second hangs between the two

And the bus stop keeps its breathing slow

Traffic light is painting green on the empty glass

Curtain wind is curling in the summer heat

Every hum of engines fades into a hum

And the sound is something close to sleep

One more minute, footsteps or the still

Either way my chest will find a beat

All the roads are folding into this one point

But my hands are not as cold as before

If I wait here, will the night still hold me?

If I go now, will the light let me through?

Every second hangs between the two

And the bus stop keeps its breathing slow

Clouds are breaking, streetlights fade

Every color starts to pale

Choice is leaning, time is thin

Every door will open soon

If I wait here, will the night still hold me?

If I go now, will the light let me through?

Every second hangs between the two

And the bus stop keeps its breathing slow