I found it in a drawer tonight,A cracked screen flickered back to life.Scrolling through the midnight haze,Your words still echo in the haze.Every line, every call I saved,Frozen pieces I can’t erase.Though the years have come and gone,Your memory still plays on.On my old phone, your voice still calls my name,Whispers in the static, but it sounds the same.Every message feels like a ghost in the frame,On my old phone, your voice still calls my name.Your laughter caught in late-night tones,A melody inside the microphone.I hit replay, though it breaks me down,It’s the closest I get to having you around.Every word is a photograph,Every pause is pulling me back.Though the world has moved along,In these wires, you still belong.On my old phone, your voice still calls my name,Whispers in the static, but it sounds the same.Every message feels like a ghost in the frame,On my old phone, your voice still calls my name.Should I let it die, let the battery fade?Or keep your memory safe in the sound it made?Between the silence and the glow,You’re the secret only I still know.On my old phone, your voice still calls my name,Whispers in the static, but it sounds the same.Every message feels like a ghost in the frame,On my old phone, your voice still calls my name.I close the drawer but I can’t let go,That broken screen still feels like home.On my old phone, your voice remains,Calling softly, calling my name.