Can't delete it
Trained in opera, thrown out for improvising, and has never once sung a song the same way twice
the numbers
- bpm
- 103
- key
- D major
- energy
- 0.68
- dance
- 0.91
- valence
- 0.49
- vocal at
- 3.0s
- length
- 3:19
- language
- En
lyrics
On rue des Rosiers, ten past eight Your face is fixed in a cheap gold frame The lamp by the sink casts a pale square My thumb stops short when I pass by there The coffee ring dries on the saucer blue A torn cab ticket still folds in two I set down the frame by the red brass tray Then turn my eyes to the wall all day I hear the shutter click in the hall I grip the phone and watch it fall One small file, one thin cold line I know it's there, but it's not mine Can't delete it Can't delete it Can't delete it Can't delete it I leave it sleeping in the dark I do not touch that silver mark At Gare de Lyon, half past nine Your coat on a chair, my red wine The mirror holds a hard-lit scene My fingers brush the screen between The album waits in the drawer below Under a scarf and a snapped black bow I hear the fridge and the kettle hiss And still I dodge that frozen kiss I hear the shutter click in the hall I grip the phone and watch it fall One small file, one thin cold line I know it's there, but it's not mine Can't delete it Can't delete it Can't delete it Can't delete it I leave it sleeping in the dark I do not touch that silver mark If I open it, I lose my breath If I keep it shut, it learns me less So I stand by the blue-lit sink And let that tiny machine think Can't delete it Can't delete it Can't delete it Can't delete it I leave it sleeping in the dark I do not touch that silver mark