A Travel Story

[Verse 1] Dawn breaks on cobblestone, Her shadow hums a quiet tune. Paris whispers through the mist, A lonesome waltz in amber hues. She boards the train, the engine sighs, Gold spills on fields like open skies. [Chorus] Oh, the world’s a postcard in her hand, Ink smudged with freedom, grains of sand. The rails hum softly, “You’re alive,” Her heart’s a map, the road’s too wide. [Verse 2] She writes to no one, just the wind, “I’m not lost, but I’m unspooled again.” The sun dips low, a fading friend, The ache of roads that never end. [Chorus] Oh, the world’s a postcard in her hand, Ink smudged with freedom, grains of sand. The rails hum softly, “You’re alive,” Her heart’s a map, the road’s too wide. [Bridge] Horizons melt, the stars align, She breathes the space where borders die. The lonely’s sweet, the silence kind— A thousand miles to leave behind. [Chorus] Oh, the world’s a postcard in her hand, Ink smudged with freedom, grains of sand. The rails hum softly, “You’re alive,” Her heart’s a map, the road’s too wide. [Outro] (Instrumental fade: gentle guitar, distant strings, and a fading piano melody)