Verse 1

We are known to the second decimal place

Close enough to feel the rounding error

Someone reads our face across the table

And names the feeling — nearly, nearly there

We nod and say yes, that's it, that's it

But something in us stays untranslated

A word that doesn't cross the distance

We've stopped trying to locate it

Chorus

Oh, the almost is the cruelest country

Where we live just past the border of the known

Close enough to see each other clearly

Far enough to be profoundly, quietly alone

We are fluent in each other's silences

But the silence has a room inside a room

And we stand outside it, recognized

Waiting for a door that almost opens soon

Bridge

Maybe this is what it means to be alive

Perpetually approximate

Under someone's understanding like a sky

That covers us but cannot quite touch ground

We are grateful for the nearness

We are aching at the gap

Two maps of the same territory

Folded differently, and that's that

Verse 2

We rehearse ourselves in better language

Hope the next attempt completes the phrase

But fluency was never the missing piece

Some things live outside of what words raise

Outro

Almost, almost

And isn't that a kind of love

Almost, almost

Close enough to know it hurts

Instrumental Outro

How did it make you feel?

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