MY LIGHT IS ON

[INTRO] [Warm Rhodes. Soft upright bass. Dusty brushed drums. Distant acoustic guitar. Faint winter ambience. 72 BPM. Intimate, nocturnal.] Snow's coming down again. Ink & Blots turned their sign around about an hour ago. Everybody's going home. Funny. I think I finally know what that word means. [VERSE 1] [Low conversational vocal. Half-sung, half-spoken. Close mic.] There's a little crooked window on the northern side of town, Where the frost gets on the corners when the evening settles down. There's a kettle on the burner, there are blueprints on the floor, There's a tiny little someone dragging something through the door. Don't ask. I stopped asking too. There's a coat behind the chair that I keep forgetting to use. And a crack across the workbench from a winter we got through. Nothing here is perfect. That's how I know it's true. [PRE-HOOK] I used to think that home was somewhere you arrived. Now I think it's just the place where something knows you're alive. [HOOK] [Melodic vocal opens gently. Background harmony enters.] So if you're coming through the North and the night is getting long, If you missed the final carriage, if you don't know where you belong, Look above the little rooftops. Past the old wall, past the stone. There's a window burning amber. My light is on. You don't have to bring a story. You don't have to prove you're strong. You don't even have to tell me what went wrong. Just come in out the weather. You can figure out tomorrow when it comes. My light is on. [VERSE 2] [Drums settle deeper. Warm bass moves forward.] I remember when these streets felt like somebody else's dream, Old gods watching from the rooftops, winter hiding everything. Every doorway had a history. Every name was older than mine. I was just another traveler trying not to waste their time. Then somebody knew my footsteps. Somebody saved my chair. Somebody yelled, "Taida!" Like they expected me there. That's a dangerous little feeling when you've wandered for so long. One day you're passing through. Next day somebody notices you're gone. [HOOK] So if you're coming through the North and the night is getting long, If the road forgot your footsteps, if the map you had was wrong, Look above the little rooftops. Past the old wall, past the stone. There's a window burning amber. My light is on. You don't have to earn the welcome. You don't have to sing our song. Sit down. Warm your hands. Stay as long as you want. The snow can have the whole damn world. Tonight you're not alone. My light is on. [VERSE 3] [Subtle electric guitar enters. Vocal becomes more rhythmic.] They started calling me for answers. I still think that's kinda strange. I know how to build a relic. I know how to make things change. I know seventeen bad ways to make a perfectly good plan explode. And apparently that qualifies me to tell everybody where to go. [small laugh] But when the Northern Gates get quiet, When the last patrol comes through, When the old ones stop their talking and the sky goes winter-blue, I don't think about the title. I don't think about the throne. I think about who's still out walking. And whether they'll make it home. [BRIDGE] [Drums disappear. Rhodes, bass, winter wind.] There were times I would've kept walking. Even if somebody called my name. Because staying somewhere long enough to love it means giving it something you can lose. [Pause.] I know that now. I stayed anyway. [FINAL VERSE] [Beat returns slowly. Calm, warm authority.] So here's to all the strange ones. All the patched-up, painted-over, Wrong-door, last-train, Little-bit-too-late ones. Here's to every wandering thing that thought it had to change before somebody made a place for it. You don't. Bring the cracks. Bring the noise. Bring the part you couldn't fix. We got shelves for broken relics. We got room for stranger things. And maybe home ain't where you're from. Maybe blood ain't what decides. Maybe home is where they notice when your window has no light. [FINAL HOOK] [Full warm harmonies. Still restrained. No huge climax.] So if you're coming through the North and the night is getting long, If you've carried something heavy for so many miles it's gone from a burden to a heartbeat, and you think you must go on... You don't. There's a window burning amber. My light is on. Come in out the weather. Put whatever you're carrying down. Nobody here is counting how long you've been gone. Tomorrow we can build something. Tonight... just come home. My light is on. [OUTRO] [Drums fade. Rhodes and faint guitar remain. Winter ambience.] Snow's getting heavy. I'll leave it on a little longer. ... Yeah. I think I'll leave it on.