Where I Learned to Breathe — Liva

The week piles up, I can't see clear
The kind of tired I don't know how to wear
I call my girls, they always come
With wine and warmth and open arms
They listen and they hold me tight
And still the noise won't let me go

There's a voice I haven't dialled yet
The one that always finds the thread
Five thousand miles, across the line, across the dark

So I call my dad, five thousand miles
And somehow when he speaks the room turns soft
He doesn't fix it, doesn't soften what he sees
He just lets the silence hold it till I see
The part of me that has to be the loudest
Goes quiet when he says my name
And that's where I learn to breathe
That's where I learn to breathe

He doesn't make it about himself
He doesn't wrap the hard things up in shine
He says the thing I tried to step around
He says it slow, he says it true
He says, "Honey, you're in your own way again"
And the part of me that argues, stills

So I call my dad, five thousand miles
And somehow when he speaks the room turns soft
He doesn't fix it, doesn't soften what he sees
He just lets the silence hold it till I see
The part of me that has to be the loudest
Goes quiet when he says my name
And that's where I learn to breathe
That's where I learn to breathe

Half a world apart, and still
Closer than the room I'm in
You taught me how to step out of my way
To live without the need to win
When my ego climbs the walls
And I forget the simple thing
Your voice arrives, slow and warm
You say, "Breathe — you'll figure it"

So I call my dad, five thousand miles
And somehow when he speaks the room turns soft
He doesn't fix it, doesn't soften what he sees
He just stays there on the line
'Til the part of me that has to be the loudest
Finally lets the rest of me come home
And that's where I learn to breathe
That's where I'm me without the noise
That's where I learn to breathe

Five thousand miles
Two coffees cooling
The line clicks off
And I am here, and I am not alone