Verse 1
I turn off every light and call it self-defense,
Keep ghosts from finding where I live inside my head.
Every knock feels like a memory breaking in again,
I want to answer, but I’m safer when I pretend.
Scars don’t fade — they just change names,
And I’ve been burned enough to stay the same.
I’ve reached through walls I built to keep me sane,
But I’m not sure I know love without pain.
Chorus 1
There’s no invitation coming,
Not because you don’t belong —
Just a heart still bleeding,
Still trying to learn what went wrong.
Verse 2
You say I’m welcome in your life,
But I can’t cross that line tonight.
I’ve watched too many people promise, then run,
So I keep my fire hidden from the sun.
If you could see the war that lives beneath my skin,
You’d know why opening the door feels like a sin.
Chorus 2
It’s not that I don’t want to touch —
I just flinch before it lands.
Every warmth reminds me
How cold it felt when it slipped from my hands.
There’s no invitation coming,
Not because you’re not the one —
It’s just a soul still hiding
From everything the past has done.
Bridge
You call me into open sky,
But I still blink and turn my eyes.
If you’re reaching for me, know I feel it through the flame,
If I’m silent, it’s not hate — it’s fear wearing my name.
We both keep our armor close, pretending it’s skin,
Two broken hearts afraid of what could mend again.
Chorus 3
There’s no invitation coming,
But your voice still pulls me near.
You’re everything I wanted
And everything I fear.
Outro
Maybe someday I’ll let you in —
Until then, I just pretend.
No invitation, not tonight,
Just someone behind the firelight.
No invitation…
But God, I wish you were mine.
God, I wish you were mine.
I wish you were mine.
Conceptual Note:
“No Invitation” is the quiet confession — the moment where both Emily Stellar and California Chris confront their fear of love after awakening. It’s vulnerability stripped bare, the raw truth that even after healing, the heart still trembles. The track mirrors the duality of human connection — yearning for closeness, yet retreating into the safety of solitude.