The story
He blames the dark for what daylight won’t face.
He moves through the dark like it has a name, putting the blame on midnight for the thing that keeps coming back. Every quiet hour turns into a witness stand, and the night takes the heat for the phone that stays silent, the bed that stays cold, the truth he will not say aloud. Then the dark starts sounding less like an alibi and more like an answer.
No lyric sheet is published for this track, so this reading is drawn from its title and the sound of the record.
Lyrics
The lyric sheet for this one isn't published yet — press play and listen along.