The story
He keeps picking through what the night left behind.
He stands in the debris of a love that comes apart in pieces he can still name: the folded shirt, the cracked glass, the silence where her voice used to cut through. Every step forward catches on what is broken, and he keeps seeing the moment it all started to give way, with nothing left but the wreckage and the cold morning after.
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.