Come Back
A voice calls across distance—not just to a person, but to something that once felt close, almost inseparable. There’s memory here, and a quiet confusion about how something so real could drift so far away. It doesn’t demand an answer. It just keeps calling.
Lyrics
why don't you come back?
why don't you ever come around
you know sometimes
we'd like to see you
why don't you ever come around
and hang out awhile
I thought we were really good friends
remember last time
we all got together
remember last time
I saw your face
I remember last time
I went out into the sky
I remember last time
you taught me
you taught me to fly
you taught me to fly
taught me to fly
oh, and I did
oh, and we did
oh, yeah
so tell me now
why you're not
coming around
tell me now
why you're not
hanging around
where are you, honey?
hanging around
come back, honey
hanging around
come back, honey
come back, darling
There’s a strange kind of absence this song circles—one that isn’t clean or final. It lingers. It leaves traces. It remembers what it used to feel like when connection was effortless, when presence didn’t have to be asked for.
But something has shifted. No explanation is given, or maybe none can be trusted. The voice keeps returning to memory—you taught me to fly—as if trying to prove that what was once shared was real. Not imagined. Not a mistake.
And still, no answer comes. Just the echo of the call. Not angry. Not even fully broken. Just… reaching. As if somewhere beneath everything that’s been lost, there’s still a belief—quiet, almost hidden—that something might return.
