Alone New Yorker

Hmm, hmm

I turn the ceiling into headphones

Let the plaster hum in grey

All my posters blurred to outlines

Like they're trying to fade away

There's a cup of cold black coffee

Growing constellations on the glass

Every stain another evening

I pretended wouldn't pass

I keep the daylight on airplane mode

Let it circle but never land

Every song I write is a message back

From a place I can't withstand

In this room with no corners

Every thought just spins and sings

High above a quiet chaos

Tied to barely anything

If the world forgets my body

It will still remember sound

In this room with no corners

I dissolve but I resound

There's a crack behind the wardrobe

Where the wallpaper lets go

It's the only line that's honest

Everything else plays a role

I record the hum of fridges

Turn the bus brakes into choirs

Every little broken frequency

Becomes a way to breathe the wires

I keep the windows on screenshot mode

Frozen faces in the rain

Every ghost who ever scrolled me

Leaves a fingerprint of pain

In this room with no corners

Every thought just spins and sings

High and thin and almost weightless

Sharper than a violin's string

If the world forgets my body

It will still remember sound

In this room with no corners

I dissolve but I resound

If I open up the door

Will the notes fall to the floor

Like the pages of a book

No one stayed long enough to look

So I hide them in the air

In a register too rare

For the people in the hall

Who hear nothing through the wall

In this room with no corners

I grow smaller, I grow bright

Every chord a tiny signal

Sent from somewhere out of sight

If they never learn my story

Let them only feel the wound

Of a young voice too high, too early

Haunting rooms they never knew

Uh

Uh, uh