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In Between the Rooms 2 by Anna

SongGPT
In Between the Rooms 2 by Anna - Indie Pop,neutral vocals music cover art

In Between the Rooms 2

Indie Pop,neutral vocals

0:003:31
Lyrics
Description
(Verse 1)
There was a coffee mug cracked at the kitchen table light,
An argument that sounded like rain at midnight.
A slammed door that taught me how to move on tip-toe,
Whispered apologies in the hallway, voices low.
Mama folding a blue sweater, stitching at the seam,
Daddy left a note, said he'd be back, never what it seemed.
I learned to count the quiet, learned to read the tone,
Learned to keep my footsteps small so I wouldn't wake the home.
(Pre-Chorus)
I hid my songs beneath the mattress and my questions in my shoes,
Wore other people's laughter like a borrowed pair of shoes.
But when the lights went out I found a lullaby of my own,
A little practice in breathing when the house felt like a storm.
(Chorus)
I live between
Not broken, not whole
I keep my own
I live between —
Not broken, not whole —
I keep my own.
(Verse 2)
I made mornings of my small revolutions: toast, a window seat,
Tuned the radio to quiet songs so the edges felt less steep.
Friends who picked me up where the porch light used to be,
We planted tiny brave things in jars labeled: 'Maybe'.
Schoolyard smiles, secondhand advice, the map I stitched myself,
A cupboard full of careful plans and one worn-out book of help.
Not a desert, not a dream — a life that learns to bend,
I learned to hold a fractured map and call that getting home again.
(Pre-Chorus)
Every slammed door taught me how to build a softer sound,
Every whispered apology taught me how to stand my ground.
I keep a line of quiet rituals, a steady, private tone,
Little vows I make at midnight so I never feel alone.
(Bridge)
There’s a photograph in a shoebox with edges browned by time,
A face half hidden by the sun and a promise I rewrote in rhyme.
The blue sweater still smells like winter if I hold it to my chest,
I press my palm against the window where the rain forgives the rest.
I stitch the torn-up pages with a needle made of hope,
I find the words to name the hurt, then teach myself to cope.
(Chorus)
I live between
Not broken, not whole
I keep my own
I live between —
Not broken, not whole —
I keep my own.
(Outro)
Not a normal storybook, not a silent grave of pain,
Just a life that learned to polish sunlight out of rain.
I keep a garden of small truths where the lost things grow,
In between the rooms I learned how to be my home.
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