Ah —
Mm,,,
Neon on the window, midnight on the street. A rainstreak taxi glass, where our reflections meet.
Empty theater seats hold the ghosts of our life. Your lighter sparks, a memory in the back of my jacket's half.
Cigarette smoke and coffee steam, your coat on the chair.
A lipstick crescent on a paper cup, proof you were there.
You slide a thumb along the vinyl map of all we tried. Words folded in a ticket stub, where brave promises hide.
I learn the pauses of your breathing like lines I can't unmake. We collect the small combustions of everything we break.
Embers of our echo lighting up the dark. A chorus in my chest, where your syllables spark.
Vibrant as a neon sign that tramples in the rain. Unforgettable, the trace of you that calls me back again.
Ah —
They keep me coming back. Those embers call me home.
Ah —
You left a voicemail that tasted like after hours rain. Keys on the counter, a bent spoon, a half-packed train.
We argued about the quiet like it was a theft of air. You told me to choose sunrise. I chose the midnight glare.
Your jacket smelled of diesel and a fear you wouldn't aim. I found your handwriting on the page, a promise with a stain.
This time the pauses sharpen, sonor through my chest. Your laughter turns to questions that I couldn't answer best.
We fold our days into a pocket, where the light goes thin. And every small ignition needs an ending to begin.
Embers of our echo flicker on the glass. They write the history of us in silhouettes that pass.
This neon keeps confessing what the dark won't let remain. Unforgettable and aching, those embers call my name.
Ah —
They keep me coming back. They pull me toward the flame.
Ah —
Remember the alley with the florist and the rain-slick sign? You pressed a folded note in my coat.
Forgive me, make us fine. I kept the paper in a drawer, folded, never read aloud.
You left with a suitcase full of reasons and a quiet that was proud.
The secret wasn't leaving, it was the way I let you go.
I promised I would follow, but I watch the taillights slow.
Embers of our echo, burning small in fears. A beacon in the blackout where the lost and hopeful peers.
Neon on the window, midnight on the street. Again, unforgettable, the way you haunt me.
They call me home, they call me in.
They keep me coming back.
They call me home.
Ah —
Let the embers glow, let the neon bleed through rain. I trace your name in condensation on the taxi's pane.
Vibrant, emotional, an afterglow that won't resign. An unforgettable melody stitched into the night.
Your light in mine.
