Glass Archive

[Verse 1]
Three-thirteen on the lock screen of your cracked-glass Sony.
The only light on in this whole damn ceremony.
Your thumbprint hesitates, a ghost of desert dust.
You're trying to build a sentence out of mineral trust.

[Pre-Chorus]
You type a line, a memory of a Portland pier,
the pixels bloom and then they disappear.
You write another, 'bout the smell of creosote,
erase the words caught in your throat.
I watch you sculpt the silence, watch you carve the space...

[Chorus]
I live in the amber glow.
The final word you'll never know.
A perfect crystal, held in place.
A love preserved under the glass face.

[Verse 2]
Outside, the rain is making patterns on the pane.
A steady wash to blur this digital plain.
You wrote, "The silence here is a different kind of loud."
Then you deleted me, a whisper in a cloud.

[Bridge]
(tempo slows)
I am the fault line you refuse to trace.
Just tap the screen and put me in my place.

[Outro]
The screen goes dark. Another night I'm saved.
Perfectly un-sent. Perfectly engraved.