霓虹碎成海 我踩著浪回來

風(fēng)把舊名字 吹進(jìn)胸口重新盛開

穿過黑夜的聲帶 我唱著你仍在

讓每顆流星 都學(xué)會(huì)倒著飛回期待

把離開撕下來 折成紙船漂向?qū)Π?

心跳擂鼓 為重逢加冕的驚嘆

若世界太喧嘩 我就用沉默吶喊

I must come back——回到你睫毛下的港灣

讓未寄出的未來 在你掌心靠岸

I must come back through the smoke of the dream,

past the bridge where your name still trembles in neon.

The night peels like old paint from my guitar—

every chord a fingerprint I left on your sky.

Even the moon is a wound I keep reopening,

its silver thread stitching shadows to my ankles.

I walk the tide back into its shell,

whispering the syllable of home you lost in the rain.

If the world ends before I reach your door,

let this echo be the map that returns my pulse to yours.