Текст песни
I write your name in letters made of almost,
Ink that dries before it finds a shape,
And fold the nothing gently —
Envelope.
The words I chose are stranded on the table,
Too heavy for the paper, too soft to speak,
I seal them in their quiet —
Envelope.
A room reflected wrong behind the mirror,
Where every door you opened led to here,
I keep the door inside the —
Envelope.
The glass remembers hands I cannot borrow,
The ink remembers things I never said,
I press them flat and seal them —
Envelope.
There is a stamp for letters going nowhere,
A postmark for the years I didn't send,
The address is a silence —
Envelope.
One day the paper yellows past all reading,
One day the fold gives way to empty air,
But still I hold the shape of —
Envelope.
