Perennial Quiet

[Verse 1]
The genmaicha's on the counter, a little cloud of steam.
You're looking for the kettle's hum inside a waking dream.
Your shadow on the linoleum is long and moving slow.
"Two sugars, right?" you ask, and you don't wait for me to know.

[Chorus]
And oh, it hits me like a chord I never learned to play.
This perennial quiet you invent for me each day.
Some people pray to statues, some people mend the seams.
You just hand me the morning in a cup of porcelain dreams.

[Verse 2]
It's Tuesday, 6 AM, the month the cherry blossoms died.
You use the Seto bowl with the hairline crack inside.
You say it holds the heat better, a story I believe.
The spoon against the ceramic is the only sound you leave.

[Chorus]
And oh, it hits me like a chord I never learned to play.
This perennial quiet you invent for me each day.
Some people pray to statues, some people mend the seams.
You just hand me the morning in a cup of porcelain dreams.

[Bridge]
All my life I've cataloged the ghosts and the decay,
But you're a root system growing in the light of common day.
How do you just exist without the footnotes and the dread?

[Outro]
It hits me like a chord...
This perennial quiet...