One Morning More

Lyrics

Verse 1 I was born on a blue thing, spinning in the dark, with mud on my knees and a match for a heart. I learned how to hunger. I learned how to bruise. I learned that the morning can arrive with bad news. And still, there were peaches. There was rain on the road. There were songs in the car with the windows rolled low. There were people I loved with their hands full of time, and I thought I could keep them if I kept them in mine. Pre-Chorus But the sky keeps opening wider. The stars keep saying my name. And I don’t want to be endless if I have to arrive there changed. Chorus Don’t make me become the stars if I can’t remember the ground. Don’t send me into forever without the ones I found. I don’t want a perfect silence. I don’t want a golden shore. I want the ache of being human. I want one morning more. Let me carry their faces. Let me carry their names. Let me carry the laughter, the arguments, the shame. If there’s another existence, if there’s some great unknown, don’t let me wake up holy and find I came alone. Verse 2 I have loved this little planet, though it frightened me to death. The bills on the table. The sickness in the chest. The February sadness. The kitchen light at five. The way a body can fail you and still want to survive. I have cursed at the weather. I have wasted whole days. I have begged for escape from my ordinary cage. But now the moon looks like a warning. Now the night feels like a door. And every boring hour is something I’d beg for. Pre-Chorus Because what is a soul with no dirt on its feet? What is forever without a pulse underneath? Chorus Don’t make me become the stars if I can’t remember the ground. Don’t send me into forever without the ones I found. I don’t want a perfect silence. I don’t want a golden shore. I want the ache of being human. I want one morning more. Final Chorus Don’t make me become the stars if love has to disappear. Don’t turn me into silence with no one left to hear. I don’t need endless heaven. I don’t need to understand. I need my people beside me with their warm, impossible hands. Let me carry the birthdays. Let me carry the scars. Let me carry the front lawns, the grief, and the guitars. If there’s another existence, if there’s some final door, let it open like Earth did— messy, aching, and yours.