Couch Foundation

[Verse 1]
Rain streaks down the old glass pane, a blur of city gold.
This couch, a deep embrace, a story left untold.
The ancient stones outside are waiting, draped in morning gray.
But here, my own foundation, holding back the day.

[Chorus]
Let the week crumble, I'm rooted here instead.
No rush for Monday, no worries in my head.
This moment’s architecture, strong and soft and slow.
Let the world keep turning, I’m not ready to go.

[Verse 2]
Echoes of espresso, Nonna's voice, a distant chime.
The jasmine from the alley climbing, defying space and time.
Every chipped façade outside holds a tale of yesterday.
But on this perfect Sunday, I just want to stay.

[Chorus]
Let the week crumble, I'm rooted here instead.
No rush for Monday, no worries in my head.
This moment’s architecture, strong and soft and slow.
Let the world keep turning, I’m not ready to go.

[Bridge]
A whisper of the sea wind, the salt still on my skin.
This quiet moment's fragile, where new structures begin.
The world outside is stirring, a rumbling, ancient hum.
But on this soft foundation, I’m just feeling numb.

[Chorus]
Let the week crumble, I'm rooted here instead.
No rush for Monday, no worries in my head.
This moment’s architecture, strong and soft and slow.
Let the world keep turning, I’m not ready to go.

[Outro]
Just me and this old window, holding back the tide.
On my perfect Sunday, nowhere left to hide.