Echoes in the Attic

Echoes in the attic, They sing soft and low. Telling me stories I've outgrown, But should know. Echoes in the attic, They're part of my soul. In their faded refrain, I find what makes me whole. Mm. Mm. I climb the stairs to the attic of time. Where dusty boxes hold what I left behind. Each photograph a door I can't reopen. But the echoes whisper, "You're not alone." So I brush the cobwebs, let the light in. Hear a voice say, "Your past isn't sin." Echoes in the attic, they sing soft and Low. Telling me stories I've outgrown, But should know. Echoes in the attic, They're part of my soul. In their faded refrain, I find what Makes me whole. I trace the edges of a letter half-burned. Words like ashes, but the meanings return. Now the window leaks sun in a golden thread. Weaving new chapters where the old ones Fled. Oh, The attic isn't a prison, it's a well. Where every memory's a bell I can hear. Echoes in the attic, They sing soft and low. Telling me stories I've outgrown, But should know. Echoes in the attic, they're part of my Soul. In their faded refrain, I find what makes me whole. Oh.