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