Mmm, yeah.

Listen to the quiet.

Red dirt carried on a heavy coat

Winter arriving on an English boat

A child of two spaces, borrowing the ground

Fame is a country where I will not be found

I watch from the edges, taking it in

Learning the rules before the games begin.

They trade their minutes for the camera's glare

Selling their faces to the empty air

I keep the silence, a deliberate choice

Living the years before I give them my voice

Holding the reins, owning my pace

Finding my wealth in an empty space.

Cutting the fabric, pinning the seams

Drafting the patterns, avoiding the schemes

The suits in the building tap on the glass

Watching the calendar, watching time pass

They ask for a record, they point to the clock

I turn the key and I tighten the lock

I need to live before I have something to say

I pack up my coat and I walk away.

They trade their minutes for the camera's glare

Selling their faces to the empty air

I keep the silence, a deliberate choice

Living the years before I give them my voice

Holding the reins, owning my pace

Finding my wealth in an empty space.

A table of wood in a house by the lane

Watching my child in the afternoon rain

The noise of the crowds is a continent wide

I close up the gate and I stay here inside

No flashing bulbs, just the kettle's hiss

They call it a vanishing, I call it bliss.

Mmm.

Walking the gravel.

Leaving no trace.

Indigo and asphalt.

My quiet space.