「Century」

Candles bending in the varnished dark Dust asleep upon the piano keys Velvet curtains breathing winter air And the clock refusing every century Porcelain cups with rings of bitter tea A violin with only three thin strings Footsteps buried underneath the wood Like forgotten saints beneath a ruined church The studio smells of cedar, smoke, and rain Old paper curling by the fireplace Ink-stained fingers trembling near the lamp Trying to stitch a hymn into the fading grain The ceiling carries stains of ancient storms Brown rivers crawling through the plaster veins Every crack becomes a crooked map Leading nowhere anyone could name Century after century Voices fade into the cedar walls The singers turn to portraits in the dark Their eyes dissolving under amber varnish Century after century Music curls like smoke around the beams Never dying fully from the world Only hiding in forgotten rooms So let the ceiling crack above my head Let the portraits peel their painted skin I will sing until the dust itself Learns the shape my loneliness has been Century after century And when another century arrives Quietly wearing colder hands than mine Perhaps some stranger lighting one small match