First Snow

[Verse 1] Six a.m., the streetlights still asleep, concrete gone quiet under something soft. The bus stop bench wears a coat it didn't have last night when everything looked lost. [Pre-Chorus] And I press my thumb against the glass, draw a small circle just to see the whole gray block forget itself, turning white so easily. [Chorus] First snow, falling like it knows my name, covering the cracks I couldn't hide. Old wonder waking up again, soft enough to make it feel alright. First snow, come and slow the morning down, let the tired city hold its breath — just this once, everything is new, and I remember what that's like. [Verse 2] The corner shop hums warm behind the door, her scarf is dusted where she paused to look. Two strangers meet a flake in the same light, and neither one of us takes back the look. [Pre-Chorus] And I let the coffee go a little cold, just to watch it come apart mid-air — a thousand small forgivings drifting down like the sky's been keeping some to spare. [Chorus] First snow, falling like it knows my name, covering the cracks I couldn't hide. Old wonder waking up again, soft enough to make it feel alright. First snow, come and slow the morning down, let the tired city hold its breath — just this once, everything is new, and I remember what that's like. [Bridge] I stopped believing sometime in November, told myself the magic was a kid's mistake. But there's a light on in a window I don't know, and a snowman half-built by a boy still wide awake. Maybe grown-up hands can hold a little too — [Outro] so I step outside before it melts, palms open, and I catch a few. First snow. First snow. Turns out I still knew.