Verse 1

We press our foreheads to the glass

and watch the intersections breathe —

the cabs that never stop for us,

the awnings no one's standing beneath.

We've been counting signals change

from red to green to almost-gone,

still half-dressed in our in-between,

still wondering where we belong.

Chorus

We are the ones above the noise,

too far up to hear the names,

counting floors in other buildings,

watching strangers keep their flames.

The city doesn't need our watching,

but we give it anyway —

all the attention we can't spend

at the end of a Wednesday.

Verse 2

Somewhere below a door swings wide,

a laugh escapes and disappears.

We catalogue the lit-up squares,

the ones that went dark mid-year.

There's a language in the pattern —

neon spelling something true —

but by the time we think we read it,

another window flickers through.

Chorus

We are the ones above the noise,

too far up to hear the names,

counting floors in other buildings,

watching strangers keep their flames.

The city doesn't need our watching,

but we give it anyway —

all the attention we can't spend

at the end of a Wednesday.

Bridge

Maybe this is how we rest —

not sleeping but just letting go,

standing at the edge of elsewhere,

belonging to the vertigo.

The summer air is thick outside,

the glass is cool against our palms,

and for a moment nothing's owed,

and for a moment there's no harm.

Outro

We stay a little longer here.

The city breathes. We let it.

We stay a little longer here.

Instrumental Outro

How did it make you feel?

Help shape the next song.