SPOONMAN Verse 1 He polishes the moon with borrowed light, Silver prayers in the dead of night. Sings to the ache like it’s gospel truth, Kisses the ghost in a porcelain room. He keeps his hunger in a velvet box, Counts his blessings in ticking clocks. Says, “I’m fine,” with a trembling grin, Like sleep and peace ever let him in. Pre-Chorus He don’t chase angels, don’t run from flames, Just follows the quiet that knows his name. Chorus Oh, Spoonman, spinning silver slow, Stirring dreams where the dark things grow. Every touch turns the world to blue, Every promise almost comes true. He don’t want heaven, he don’t want fame— Just a moment without the rain. Oh, Spoonman, don’t look back, The night looks softer when it cracks. Verse 2 He learned to float in a shallow sleep, Where the fall feels warm and the hurt feels cheap. Wears his sorrow like second skin, Calls it fate when it pulls him in. The sun keeps knocking, he draws the blinds, Says daylight asks too much of time. He’s not lost, he’s just between What he was and what he’s seen. Pre-Chorus He’s not broken, not beyond repair, He just found a silence he wants to stay in there. Chorus Oh, Spoonman, turning silver thin, A lullaby under his skin. Every breath feels almost new, Every dream tastes tried-and-true. He don’t want to disappear— Just rest where nothing’s loud or near. Oh, Spoonman, close your eyes, The stars lean in, the world goes quiet. Bridge (Half-Time, AIC-Style Weight) The prettiest lies don’t scream or shout, They hum you down, they smooth you out. If mercy had a color, it’d glow In the bend of the light he knows. He swore he’d leave, he swore he’d stay, Swore tomorrow was on its way. But tomorrow’s a word that bruises deep When all you want is perfect sleep. Final Chorus Oh, Spoonman, silver in bloom, Dancing alone with the empty moon. Every wish comes dressed in grace, Every goodbye wears a familiar face. He don’t ask why, he don’t pretend, He just wants the noise to end. Oh, Spoonman, soft and slow— Some light feels better when it’s low. Outro If you see him shining, don’t call it sin— Some wars are quiet, fought within.
