"Play me once... when it still meant something."

(French whisper: “Rejoue-moi... quand c’était encore de l’amour.”)

You said, “this track’s our forever,”

as we danced in the kitchen light.

Hands on hips, two mugs on the counter—

you in my hoodie, everything felt right.

But the chorus never came,

just verses we couldn’t name.

You sang off-key, but I loved it still.

Now I wonder if you ever will.

(French whisper: “Tu chantais faux, mais c’était parfait pour moi.”)

I burned your laugh into cassette reels,

hid your tears in the backing beat.

Every sigh was a secret harmony—

one I could never delete.

(Maybe: “Chaque soupir… une note que je n’oublie pas.”)

Male:

Play me once, don’t rewind.

Before the skip, before the signs.

Female:

Je t’entendais encore… dans le silence de la bande.

Together:

Spin me while you still care—

before Side B takes it from there.

(French: “Avant que le silence ne prenne ma place.”)

We recorded summer on sidewalks,

left our footprints in the bass.

Your voice was sunlight,

but shadows chased.

I looped the bright parts,

but the silence always grew.

You hummed along to static—

and I knew you already knew.

(French whisper: “Tu savais... et tu chantais quand même.”)

The rhythm stuttered in your kiss,

tempo slipped with every fight.

Still I held the melody close,

hoping you’d dance through the night.

(Maybe: “Je dansais pour toi… même quand tu partais déjà.”)

Play me once, don’t skip ahead.

We’re still more than what we said.

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