Lyrics
[Verse 1] I keep your letter in the kitchen drawer Beside the keys you left beside the door The paper curls where summer water fell I read the same four lines and know them well [Pre-Chorus] Your name still fits inside my quiet room Like a coat that holds the shape of you [Chorus] How far can a memory travel Before it turns back into air? I carry you under my breathing Like a question I still leave there If morning finds me a little less broken I’ll call that a kind of prayer [Verse 2] The train goes north at twenty past nine Your old blue scarf is folded under mine I watch the fields divide and disappear And count the towns that never brought you here [Pre-Chorus] Some distances refuse to close But tenderness is not the same as hope [Chorus] How far can a memory travel Before it turns back into air? I carry you under my breathing Like a question I still leave there If morning finds me a little less broken I’ll call that a kind of prayer [Bridge] Maybe the heart is a room with a window Maybe the lock was never meant to stay I cannot promise I’ll stop missing you Only that I will learn to face the day [Chorus] How far can a memory travel Before it turns back into air? I carry you under my breathing Like a question I still leave there If morning finds me a little less broken I’ll call that a kind of prayer [Outro] I place your letter back in the drawer And leave the kitchen light on by the door
