You show up with a tremble in your fingers and a melody like rain

A hoodie over hope, the world’s lights already tracing your name

You hum the parts that feel like prayer and the parts that bruise your tongue

You ask if loud will equal truth and if the truth can be sung

I’ll tell you what I learned in the small hours after the show —

Not every answer needs an audience to know.

Close your eyes, let the chorus be a compass, not a crown

Keep the parts that make you laugh when no one else is around

Sing the lines you owe to nobody, keep the rest for when you’re tired

If you want it to be forever, start with something quietly inspired

Don’t trade your mornings for the glow of a perfect frame

Practice being honest when the applause forgets your name

Call your people first, call them even when you’re gold

Because trophies cool and nights get old, but hands that hold don’t fold

There’ll be offers dressed as friendships, and praise that tastes like sand —

Measure who stays by who remembers the sound of your unplanned laugh.

Close your eyes, let the chorus be a compass, not a crown

Keep the parts that make you laugh when no one else is around

Sing the lines you owe to nobody, keep the rest for when you’re tired

If you want it to be forever, start with something quietly inspired

Teach them how to listen before they try to be heard

Teach them that a song is safekeeping, not a word for word

Pass on how to leave the stage without forgetting how to breathe

Show them where the steady light is — the one that doesn’t need to lead

If you fall, fall into a room with friends, not headlines. If it breaks, fix it for yourself first.

Close your eyes, let the chorus be a compass, not a crown

Keep the parts that make you laugh when no one else is around

Sing the lines you owe to nobody, keep the rest for when you’re tired

If you want it to be forever, start with something quietly inspired

When they ask you how it started, tell them about the small things:

the kitchen light, the wrong chord that sounded right, the neighbor who believed

If you want a life that lasts, learn how to begin again