[Intro]
In the crowded hush of a borrowed town, a name echoes like a pulse.
Fikru walks the seam where dawn meets memory, listening for home.
[Verse 1]
Footsteps mark a map only the heart can read,
Streetlights spill stories on weathered shoes.
He wears two languages, one on each sleeve,
Learning to speak in the vowels of resilience.
[Pre-Chorus]
Every reflection asks: who am I when the crowd is loud?
He answers with a breath that holds the ache and the vow.
[Chorus]
Fikru, finding belong in the ache and the grace,
Carving a place in the quiet of his own shape.
Through the long, winding road, he learns to rise,
Belief like a lighthouse in the widening skies.
[Verse 2]
He pockets memories like coins for a dream,
A ladder made of scars reaching toward tomorrow.
Neighbors become chapters in a living book,
Each page a step toward the skin he’s becoming.
[Pre-Chorus]
The city hums a chorus he can barely sing,
Yet hope hums louder, a steady, patient ring.
[Chorus]
Fikru, finding belong in the ache and the grace,
Carving a place in the quiet of his own shape.
Through the long, winding road, he learns to rise,
Belief like a lighthouse in the widening skies.
[Bridge]
If the night forgets his name, he will recall it first,
In every crack of the pavement, a new verse rehearsed.
Identity is a river bending toward the dawn,
And he, a steadfast boat, learns to carry on.
[Chorus]
Fikru, finding belong in the ache and the grace,
Carving a place in the quiet of his own shape.
Through the long, winding road, he learns to rise,
Belief like a lighthouse in the widening skies.
[Outro]
So the sun writes his story across a hopeful frame,
Fikru carries home in the lines of his name.
