[Intro] Everyone’s charging something. Just… not themselves. [Verse 1] Phone on three percent by half past five, tree half-done, somehow still alive. Power banks lined up like holy little stones, everyone’s got a cable, no one’s got a home. Twenty tabs open in my head on replay, lists and “don’t forgets” on anxious display. Kids scream, “Is it charged? Can we film tonight?” I’m the only thing in this house not plugged in right. [Pre-Chorus] Notifications singing like a midnight choir, every ping another “do this” flyer. Smiling with my eyes like it’s all fine, but the bar in my chest is a thin red line. [Chorus] Low battery Christmas, one percent on me, everyone is charging phones, no one plugs in me. Red light blinking under fairy lights, holding it together out of sheer polite. Low battery Christmas, can’t restart my soul, passing out the chargers, never getting hold. If I fade out quiet somewhere near the tree, you’ll still film the fireworks in perfect quality. [Verse 2] Dinner looks flawless on a filtered screen, caption: “So much joy” – eyes that sting and sheen. Someone posts a reel: “Grateful, truly blessed,” whispers in the kitchen how they never rest. Grandma in the corner scrolling through the feed, liking strangers’ pictures, not the ones she needs. “One more photo, squeeze in tight, come on!” I’m a low-power heart in a full-bright world. [Pre-Chorus 2] They say, “It’s just one season, be gone soon.” My loading circle’s been spinning since last June. Wrapping paper everywhere, smiles on repeat, hands full of plates I never get to eat. [Chorus] Low battery Christmas, one percent on me, everyone is charging phones, no one plugs in me. Red light blinking under fairy lights, hosting like a hero, dying by the byte. Low battery Christmas, still on call for all, answering every “Can you?” like a beck-and-call. If I disappeared for just one silent night, would anyone go searching – or just check the Wi-Fi light? [Bridge] Bathroom door locked. Sitting on the sink. Screen face down for once, just listening to myself think. Tear tracks mixing with the cheap hand soap, scrolling through my limits like a feed of endless loss. I keep saying “I’m just tired” like it’s weather, nothing more, but there’s frost inside my ribcage and a draft under the door. Someone knocks: “Hey, you coming? We need you out here too.” I whisper to the mirror: “Who’s gonna come and charge you?” [Breakdown] Plug in, smile on, power through, who’s charging me? Not you. Plug in, burn out, fade away, who’s gonna charge me? Not today. Plug in, smile on, power through, I’ve been everybody’s socket, I’m done being the fuse. [Final Chorus – triumphant, powerful] Low battery Christmas, one percent on me, but I found the cable I was never taught to see. Not in likes, not in chaos, not in doing more and more, but in saying “I am finished” and not opening the door. Low battery Christmas, I’m not your endless light, I can love you without burning all the way through every night. So I’ll sit by the socket of a quiet empty chair, let the dishes wait till morning, let somebody else take care. [Outro ] Low battery Christmas. If I dim tonight, it’s not because I’m failing – I’m protecting what’s still bright. All these cords and screens and noise can flicker, fade, and fall. If something has to power down this year… it won’t be me at all.
