Fading Plaster

[Verse 1]
The street outside is dimming, soft and low,
This couch, a crumbling archway, where the hours go.
The jasmine whispers from the balcony,
A sweet, slow poison, setting my soul free.
Tomorrow waits, a solid, new design,
But this old structure feels so perfectly mine.

[Chorus]
Monday's knocking, a heavy, ancient door,
But this old couch just holds me to the floor.
A sweet decay, I can’t explain,
Before the city wakes again.

[Verse 2]
The evening breeze, it carries distant sound,
Like worn-down frescoes, echoing all around.
Each crack in plaster holds a story deep,
Of promises the restless city keeps.
My Nonna's voice, a foundation, strong and true,
Whispers of sun-baked walls, forever new.

[Chorus]
Monday's knocking, a heavy, ancient door,
But this old couch just holds me to the floor.
A sweet decay, I can’t explain,
Before the city wakes again.

[Bridge]
The salt on my skin, a memory's deep embrace,
A sea-wind whisper from a sacred place.
This moment's fragile, like a crumbling stone,
But in its quiet beauty, I'm not alone.

[Outro]
This fading plaster, where my soul can mend,
Until the Monday morning starts again.