SEVEN DAYS

[VERSE 1] If I packed the motor Sunday, left before the kettle boiled Took the old road out of town, let the sat-nav eat the miles Would you notice the quiet where I usually sit? Would Tuesday feel different? Would Thursday give a shit? That's the question. Not forever. Seven days. [VERSE 2] Would somebody pass my doorstep, see the curtains drawn Think I'd gone to the shops and just carry on? Would the group chat keep rolling, jokes finding a new mark? Would one of the lads ask, or leave it in the dark? I've spent years turning up, fixing what goes wrong Making noise to fill the space, wondering where I belong Stitched into the fabric. Every story. Every plan. Then the thought hits: if I cut the thread, would you understand? [CHORUS] Give me seven days away. Let the ordinary run. Let the kettle cool down. Let someone else get things done. Then I'll drive those seven days back, same road, same rain Walk through the front door, see what actually changed. Not a test. Just a need to know. [VERSE 3] Maybe somebody saves a seat and doesn't know why Maybe my name gets dropped in a story at half five Somebody remembers a detail I've forgotten myself A bad impression sitting dusty on the shelf I don't need fireworks. [BRIDGE] You never know the exact shape of what you leave behind A phrase you overuse. The cup you always try to find. The chair you always nicked. The noise you make pouring tea. The mundane little details that build the memory. [FINAL CHORUS] So give me seven days away. Not counting up the texts. Not waiting on a rescue to see what happens next. Just long enough to hear the silence when I’m gone. Then I'll come back inside. Put the kettle on. Make a paned. Leave the bag in too long. Carry on.