Lyric

My body knew the morning

Before I knew my name

My hands went looking for the keys

Before my mouth could speak

The room was holding its cold

Like a shirt left on a chair

Someone was sleeping down the hall

So I became the air

I crossed the floor without a sound

In yesterday’s old clothes

The kettle clicked, the window paled

The quiet kept me close

Before I know what I need

I know what must be done

Before I ask where I am

I am already gone

I left the cup beside the sink

The way they like it there

Turned down the light, pulled in the door

And did not wake the stairs

My breath stayed low inside my chest

My shoulders learned the weight

Of every room I kept alive

By leaving it the same

I am not awake enough to hurt

I am not gone enough to rest

I found the first light on the floor

And it did not ask what I had left

It did not need me to be strong

It did not call me good or worn

It only crossed my tired shoes

Like something small that still was warm

There are mornings I become

A shape that people trust

A coat, a door, a steady hand

A body made of must

No one has to say my name

For me to turn around

Some old promise in my bones

Still answers without sound

Before I know what I need

I know what must be done

Before I ask where I am

I am already gone

But if nobody sees me leave

And nobody sees me stay

Am I still a man inside the room

Before I give the day away

My body knew the morning

Before I knew my name

But I found the first light on the floor

And it looked at me the same

Not for the weight I carried

Not for the proof I wore

Just a quiet piece of daylight

Waiting on the floor