The Floor Where We Were (wersja 2)

Verse

Four walls of yellow, creaking floorboards low

Windows fogging like it never gets to know

You left your scarf tied round the banister knob

Radio static catching every second we've lost

I still hear your boots in the hallway late at night

Every step a ghostly echo down this flight

Cups stacked high on the counter, paint gone thin

Same old wooden bench where nothing's changed since then

Pre-Chorus

Is it the floorboards shifting or is it my chest?

Did the same four walls hold every single guest?

I'm standing right here where the porch light meets the night

Tell me what you're chasing when you ran out into the light

Chorus

This house still holds your footprints in the flour dust

The kitchen radio's humming the songs we used to trust

Every creaky floorboard sounds like it remembers you

I'm still standing on the floor where we were, where we were

Where are you now when the sun finally lands?

Did you ever look back through these same four hands?

Verse

Mailman rings once a week but I don't answer the door

Same old family quilt draped over the rocking chair some more

Your mother called last summer from the driveway, tears in her voice

Said she found your journal buried under this very roof line

I haven't changed a single thing since you left the key

Maybe it's just dust and memories like mine are meant to be

But every autumn afternoon still finds me right back here

Waiting for that porch light to turn gold and I'll feel clear

Pre-Chorus

Is it the floorboards shifting or is it my chest?

Did the same four walls hold every single guest?

I'm standing right here where the porch light meets the night

Tell me what you're chasing when you ran out into the light

Chorus

This house still holds your footprints in the flour dust

The kitchen radio's humming the songs we used to trust

Every creaky floorboard sounds like it remembers you

I'm still standing on the floor where we were, where we were

Where are you now when the sun finally lands?

Did you ever look back through these same four hands?

Bridge

Maybe home isn't a place at all — maybe it's just an ache that never lets go

Maybe running was just another way of growing up, and I get to see it like that now

I'll never leave this porch light on twice a week for someone else

It stays lit just in case you come walking back down the gravel track

Chorus

This house still holds your footprints in the flour dust

The kitchen radio's humming the songs we used to trust

Every creaky floorboard sounds like it remembers you

I'm still standing on the floor where we were, where we were

Where are you now when the sun finally lands?

Did you ever look back through these same four hands?