Refined Resonance
Boots on the stairwell,
dust in the throat
A match burns blue
beside the coat
You say keep moving,
I say not yet
The door has a chain
and a silhouette
Hands stay steady, eyes stay low
Nobody asks which way we go
Hold the line,
hold the breath
One wrong turn is a kind of death
No bright promise, no clean escape
Just a shoulder
pressed against the gate
The kettle ticks
in the empty room
Rain marks circles around the moon A radio coughs,
then loses the thread
You count the names
that the city shed
Hands stay steady, eyes stay low Nobody asks which way we go
Hold the line,
hold the breath
One wrong turn is a kind of death
No bright promise, no clean escape
Just a shoulder
pressed against the gate
If the glass breaks,
don't turn around
If the sirens rise,
stay close to the ground
You take my risk,
I take your weight
We leave no light
beneath the gate
Hold the line,
hold the breath
One wrong turn is a kind of death
No bright promise, no clean escape
Your shoulder
pressed against the gate
Boots on the stairwell,
dust in the throat
Keep moving slowly
Keep hold of the coat