Track 7 of the album Four Lines on the Back of a Postcard · 2021

The Radio Was Always Left On for Me

“My mother left the radio on for me, every night I worked late. A cosy song, with a clarinet doing the lullaby.”

cinematic pop · cinematic pop · warm ballad · 3:30

Lyrics

When I came in late from the evening shift,
The house was dark and still,
But a small amber glow by the bread bin
Was waiting on the sill.
Mother never said she'd leave it,
She just left it, low and sweet,
A voice and a tune in the kitchen
To soften the street.

And I'd stand there in my coat,
Listening to a stranger's note.

The radio was always left on for me,
A quiet lamp made out of song,
Every night I'd hear it humming
Telling me I still belonged.
Now the rooms are mine, the years have flown,
But I switch it on when I come home,
The radio was always left on for me,
And I leave it on for anyone who's alone.

Now I'm the one who holds the keys,
And I hang my coat on her hook,
There's a dial that's worn from her thumb,
And a crack in the cover, I look.
I tune it soft to the old station,
Hear a waltz roll through the air,
And I swear I can hear her slippers
On the lino, on the stair.

And I stand there in my coat,
Listening to a stranger's note.

The radio was always left on for me,
A quiet lamp made out of song,
Every night I'd hear it humming
Telling me I still belonged.
Now the rooms are mine, the years have flown,
But I switch it on when I come home,
The radio was always left on for me,
And I leave it on for anyone who's alone.

Some love is loud, some love is light,
Some love is a small red glow at night.

The radio was always left on for me,
A quiet lamp made out of song,
Every night I'd hear it humming
Telling me I still belonged.
Now the rooms are mine, the years have flown,
But I switch it on when I come home,
The radio was always left on for me,
And I leave it on for anyone who's alone.

I leave it on, I leave it on,
For anyone who's alone.