I woke to a room where the daylight used to stay

The window keeps the memory of a warm and honest day

Oh, how quiet the chairs, and how small the sound I make

There was a voice that braided sunlight into time

Now that voice lives in picture frames and in the back of my mind

Before the light, we moved like summer on the skin

Before the light, the world was easy to begin

I’d trade a thousand mornings for the one we let go

Before the light, before the light, I remember so

You left a kettle on the stove and a calendar undone

The coffee tastes of every promise we never got to name

Oh, I count all the fingerprints and every little name

We learned to turn small hours into ordinary truth

Now all I have are faded songs and every half-said proof

Before the light, we moved like summer on the skin

Before the light, the world was easy to begin

I’d trade a thousand mornings for the one we let go

Before the light, before the light, I remember so

If time could fold a corner, I would crawl inside the crease

I'd live between the seconds where your breath was my release

But mornings crack like eggshells and they swallow what was whole

I wear your shadow like a second skin that keeps me whole

Before the light, we moved like summer on the skin

Before the light, the world was easy to begin

I’d trade a thousand mornings for the one we let go

Before the light, before the light, I remember so

Before the light — a single quiet echo of home.

Production & arrangement notes (EN, keep inside brackets where helpful):