Coffee cup ring on my notebook
Your name drawn twice in a row
Sun sneaks in through my curtains
Dancing on my pillow

You sound like a Sunday morning
Soft and slow, but shining through
Every little word you leave me
Turns to color in my room
If every take was almost perfect
This one finally feels like truth
Turn me up, don’t fade me
I’m the final mix of you

Half-warm text at eleven
“I miss you” typed, then erased
I hit send on a smiling sentence
You answer with a face

You sound like a Sunday morning
Soft and slow, but shining through
Every little word you leave me
Turns to color in my room
If every take was almost perfect
This one finally feels like truth
Turn me up, don’t fade me
I’m the final mix of you (oh yeah)

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