كلمات Relics

Mom danced on tables in '89 Hair big as the dreams she left behind Now her laugh’s a ghost in the trailer park light A flicker of neon swallowed by the night We’re mannequins dressed in borrowed time Posing perfect in a world that’s blind The past is a jukebox stuck on repeat— Play it loud ‘til the ache feels sweet Dad’s old guitar screams in the attic dust Strings rusted with what-ifs and if-onlys we discussed The TV still hums those black-and-white lies But the screen’s cracked where her tears used to rise We’re mannequins dressed in borrowed time Posing perfect in a world that’s blind The past is a jukebox stuck on repeat— Play it loud ‘til the ache feels sweet