Lyrics
What I Hand Over
A post-punk dark-wave reckoning with the gap between what you give and what lands — where warmth arrives cold, open hands read as fists, and the storm may have been you all along.
a soft word leaves, arrives as stone
warmth set down, picked up as a threat
a door pulled open looks like a wall
come closer falls and means nothing at all
same four walls — two different rooms
same grey light — two different moods
what I hand over is not what they hold
what left me warm gets to them cold
open palms
taken as a fist
and no one keeps the part that's missed
they answer a thing I never gave
swing at a shape I never made
my voice climbs up to fix the air
they hear it climbing, never the care
same long night — two different storms
same still room — two different forms
what I hand over is not what they hold
what left me warm gets to them cold
open palms
taken as a fist
and no one keeps the part that's missed
and here's the part nobody sees —
the one who throws it feels no stone
hands stay open, eyes stay closed
warm at the mouth, cold where it goes
warm at the mouth
cold where it goes
so maybe the cold came off my tongue
maybe the wall was mine to take down
maybe I was the storm
that never heard it land
maybe it was me
all along