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Alone New Yorker · 2025

Room with no corners

An intimate, image-led song built around isolation, memory and the strange acoustics of a room that feels larger than the world outside.

Artist
Alone New Yorker
Written by
Benjamin Decraene
Release
2025

Lyrics

© Benjamin Decraene
I turned the ceiling into headphones
Let the plaster hum in grey
All my posters blurred to outlines
Like they're trying to fade away
There's a cup of cold black coffee
Growing constellations on the glass
Every stain another evening
I pretended wouldn't pass

I keep the daylight on airplane mode
Let it circle but never land
Every song I write is a message back
From a place I can't withstand

In this room with no corners
Every thought just spins and sings
High above a quiet chaos
Tied to barely anything
If the world forgets my body
It will still remember sound
In this room with no corners
I dissolve but I resound

There's a crack behind the wardrobe
Where the wallpaper lets go
It's the only line that's honest
Everything else plays a role
I record the hum of fridges
Turn the bus brakes into choirs
Every little broken frequency
Becomes a way to breathe the wires

I keep the windows on screenshot mode
Frozen faces in the rain
Every ghost who ever scrolled me
Leaves a fingerprint of pain

In this room with no corners
Every thought just spins and sings
High and thin and almost weightless
Sharper than a violin string
If the world forgets my body
It will still remember sound
In this room with no corners
I dissolve but I resound

If I open up the door
Will the notes fall to the floor
Like the pages of a book
No one stayed long enough to look
So I hide them in the air
In a register too rare
For the people in the hall
Who hear nothing through the wall

In this room with no corners
I grow smaller, I grow bright
Every chord a tiny signal
Sent from somewhere out of sight
If they never learn my story
Let them only feel the wound
Of a young voice too high, too early
Haunting rooms they never knew

Lyrics are original authored work. All rights reserved.