The Apartment Wouldn't Sleep

Verse 1

The apartment wouldn't sleep again last night

Neither did I

Blue numbers glowing from the bedside clock

Like tiny wounds inside the dark

There's a glass beside the mattress

Half water

Half something stronger

And the kitchen light still flickers sometimes

When the trains pass under the street

I haven't answered messages in days now

I keep listening to old voicemails instead

Like hearing certain voices enough times

Could somehow stop them from becoming memories

Refrain

Everything sounds softer after three sleepless nights

Verse 2

I found your jacket near the bathroom

Still smelling faintly of smoke and rain

And for a moment I could almost believe

You were asleep somewhere in the next room

Outside the city kept glowing quietly

Red signs dissolving through fogged glass

While somewhere above the rooftops

Morning slowly gathered without me

I think insomnia changes people

Makes every thought too loud to survive

Every silence too large

Every memory permanently unfinished

Verse 3

Around five I started recording this

Mostly so I wouldn't disappear completely

There are nights when exhaustion feels so deep

Even breathing sounds artificial

And sometimes I still remember Berlin summers

The river at dawn

Your headphones around my neck

Cheap wine between our shaking hands

Before the pills multiplied

Before every room became haunted

Before loneliness learned how to speak

In my own voice

Final Refrain

The apartment wouldn't sleep

So neither could my heart