Скачать или смотреть Violet Hour - White Canopy | Official Music Video with Lyrics

White Canopy
by Violet Hour

A dreamlike descent into obsession, memory, and beautiful horror. Jane lies in her white canopy bed as morning light filters through the blinds, letting life and love pass before her eyes. But beneath the angelic white linen, something dark has been growing.

🎵 CREDITS
Music & Lyrics: Violet Hour
Video Direction & Cinematography: AbsolutionHB

🖤 LYRICS
I.
The ceiling spins in lazy circles,
white lace catching morning through the blinds—
I remember when we bought this bed together,
how you said angels sleep on clouds like these.
Your hand was warm.
The salesman smiled.

II.
There are photographs along the wall:
boardwalks, ferris wheels, your face in golden hour.
Someone's laughing in the kitchen—
no, that's just the radio playing stations
from a decade I can't quite place.
I should get up.
I should make coffee.

III.
The sheets were white when we began,
pristine as wedding veils,
soft as promises we folded into drawers
with lavender and mothballs.
Do you remember?
You said white shows everything—
every stain, every secret,
every place where bodies pressed too hard.
I said that's why we should be careful.

IV.
But careful is a word for people
who believe in second chances,
in washing machines and bleach,
in starting over when the sun comes up.

V.
I trace patterns on the canopy above—
lace flowers, lace vines,
lace thorns that don't draw blood
because they're only thread and air.
There are other patterns here.
Darker ones.
Spreading slow like wine into tablecloth.

VI.
Michael brought me roses once,
red as his lips after kissing.
David wrote me poetry in the margins
of books I never finished reading.
Sarah sang to me in languages
I didn't know existed.
They all said forever.
They all meant until.

VII.
The bed is crowded now—
this heaven I've been building,
this sanctuary of white and soft and safe.
My fingers find your face,
still warm in places,
still beautiful where the light hits.
On my left: Michael's roses,
crushed beneath his shoulder.
On my right: David's mouth,
still forming words I'll never hear.
And Sarah—sweet Sarah—
her hand across my stomach like she's dreaming,
like she's keeping me from floating away.

VIII.
The ceiling spins in lazy circles.
The radio plays songs about love
and loss
and longing
and all the little deaths
we die before the final one.
I should get up.
But here, beneath this white canopy,
surrounded by everyone who ever said forever,
I find I don't want to move.
Not yet.
Not while the morning still looks gold.

IX.
White shows everything, you said.
You were right.

⚠️ Content Warning: This video contains themes of death and psychological disturbance. Viewer discretion advised.

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