Verse 1 [Male voice, soft and weary with gentle pulsing bass] Clock hits three, inbox glows like funeral lights Subject line so polite it cuts twice as deep tonight “Team restructuring” — code for “pack your ghosts and go” Years of late-night commits traded for a polite no Pre-Chorus [Layered faint vocal hums, glitch echoes fading] They say it’s not personal, just business in the air But the chair still remembers the shape of my despair Chorus [Rising swell into melancholic drop, voice cracking tender] Hush now, little dreams, time to close your eyes The servers won’t miss you, no need for goodbyes Rocked to sleep by silence where the notifications died Layoff lullaby, sing me soft while my future slides Verse 2 [Darker, hushed metallic undertone] Box under my arm feels heavier than code ever did Photos of the team still smiling like nothing’s been rid LinkedIn opens itself, hungry for the next polite lie “Open to work” banner waving like a white flag goodbye Bridge [Breakdown to near-whisper, then slow build] I built things that touched millions, now I’m just a line item Optimized out of existence, fading in the dim How do you mourn a craft when the craft forgets your name? Just another version bump in someone else’s game Chorus [Full aching intensity, layered harmonies like distant echoes] Hush now, little dreams, time to close your eyes The pipeline keeps running without your alibis Rocked by empty calendars and ghosted reply threads Layoff lullaby, tucking hope into its bed Outro [Fading pads and rain-static, voice trailing to whisper] Sleep tight, coder… tomorrow’s another login screen Maybe next life they’ll let the humans dream
