Every morning I listen to the sunrise,
And every evening the sunset,
And all the noise it makes,
And then I mark each day that passes,
On one of this city's walls,
Because it isn't time that I’m missing,
And it isn't my age either.
Every morning when I leave,
I leave my door open
In case someone comes by,
And then I put chalk dust
On the floor of my home
For the footsteps he or she will leave,
Because when there is an open door,
Surely, sooner or later, you know.
Every evening when I come back,
I leave a trail of white
On the dust that knows
That no one ever comes here,
And not even today,
Nothing has changed.
And then I close my door again,
Because of the night and the cold that comes with it.
Every morning I listen to the sunrise,
And every evening the sunset,
And all the noise it makes,
And then for each passing day,
I scratch a piece of
One of this city's walls,
Because it isn't time that I’m missing,
And it isn't my age either.