We talk like mirrors in an empty stairwell,
every echo bends the sound.
Your hand, a lantern, flickers near me,
It's poetry, the words profound

I saw the skyline split in silver,
I saw your silence turn to flame.
What we fear is what we’re made of,
what we’re made of has no name.

What we lose if we’re true—
the night cuts in two,
the future slips right through.
If I reach for you,
what we lose,
what we lose if we’re true.

The air was glass, we traced it broken,
our shadows drawn across the floor.
A script rehearsed, but never spoken,
a promise lingers at the door.

And though the city kept on humming,
like an organ under stone,
I knew the danger in your breathing,
was the only home I’d known.

What we lose if we’re true—
the night cuts in two,
the future slips right through.
If I reach for you,
what we lose,
what we lose if we’re true.

What we build could come apart,
a tremor splitting through the heart.
But what we hide—
is sharper still,
and silence kills.

What we lose if we’re true—
a tremor, a clue,
a hand slipping through.
What we lose if we’re true,
what we lose…
what we lose if we’re true.