Instrumental break — highlife guitar arpeggios ripple, trumpet sighs like distant horns from a trotro, maracas keep the heartbeat steady. The music breathes between the voices; the city listens.

Outro (whispered) Under the same sky, we mend the small wounds; under the same streetlight, we promise again. Atweetan — and the night remembers how to hold us.

Bridge (duet; harmonies swell) Kofi: I watched the seasons learn your face. Ofori: I learned to carry rain like a secret. Kofi: If roads lead away, they still remember the weight of two feet. Together: Come closer — let us make a harbor from our hands.

Verse 2 You braided morning into my empty cups, spoke the quiet into coffee, the fierce into my palms. There was a day I thought I lost the map to you — then your laughter folded the edges back. We danced on borrowed rooftops, gave the night a reason, traced a promise in the dust that only we could read.

Soft dusk settles over Accra’s old quarter. The streetlights blink awake like tired lanterns. From a narrow balcony above the market, a warm alto cuts through the evening hum — Ofori’s voice, honeyed and familiar, weaving a story about love that lingers beyond the last refrain.