Grey clouds pinned to the ceiling
Streetlights blink like dying stars
There’s a kid with a pocket full of silence
Counting scars like playing cards

Skateboard wheels over broken promises
Notes from school torn, left to rot
Her perfume smelled like leaving
Her lips said stay, but her eyes did not

Footsteps fade in the rearview
Laughter dies in empty halls
No hand reached when he was drowning
Only echoes, only walls

And the rain
Whispers his name down the drain
No one stays
When your light feels like a stain
Spinning slow
In this film that never plays
Just a ghost
Where his face once had a name

Ashtrays filled with borrowed mornings
Pills like pearls on motel sheets
Told himself he’s just exploring
Till the map burned beneath his feet

She laughed like it never mattered
Friends dissolved like sugar in rain
Every call went unanswered
Every hi echoed with pain

Tried to stitch the cracks with vices
Built a home from smoke and doubt
But even shadows grew tired of him
And one by one they walked out

And the rain
Whispers his name down the drain
No one stays
When your light feels like a stain
Spinning slow
In this film that never plays
Just a ghost
Where his face once had a name

Can you hear it?
The sound of almost
The silence after goodbye
Where do broken songs go
When no one’s left to cry?

Fading out in soft distortion
Rain eats the street, swallows the sound
If you pass that corner, listen closely
You might still hear him hanging around