Verse
Six a.m. and the kettle hums low
Steam on the glass writes a language I know
Grey light folding on the edge of the bed
Sock feet on floorboards, quiet in my head
Cup between palms like a small paper sun
Nothing to chase, nowhere I gotta run
The clock on the wall barely bothers to tick
Just me and the hush and the porch light gone dim
Pre-Chorus
And the world hasn't started
No cars, no sound
Just my breath and the curtain
Hanging slow, hanging round
Chorus
Rain on the windowsill again
Tracing where the morning's been
Nowhere to be, no rush, no end
Just rain on the windowsill again
Verse
Notebook page curling from yesterday's spill
Half a thought written, the rest of it still
Radiator ticking a lazy slow beat
Cat on the windowsill, warm at my feet
The block outside sleeping in shades of blue
Streetlamp still on though it's got nothing to do
I let the coffee go cold in my hand
Some mornings are meant to just quietly stand
Pre-Chorus
And the world hasn't started
No cars, no sound
Just my breath and the curtain
Hanging slow, hanging round
Chorus
Rain on the windowsill again
Tracing where the morning's been
Nowhere to be, no rush, no end
Just rain on the windowsill again
Bridge
Maybe stillness is its own kind of home
Maybe quiet's not the same as alone
The kettle clicks off, and I let the steam go
Some things you don't have to know
Chorus
Rain on the windowsill again
Tracing where the morning's been
Nowhere to be, no rush, no end
Just rain on the windowsill again
