[Intro] [Minimal D Minor sub-bass pulse. Dry, clinical kick drum. Faint, cold fridge hum.] [Verse 1] [Vocal: Female British, dry, sardonic, clear diction, conversational] Cold coffee in a chipped mug. Rent notice pinned to the door. Red stamp shouting “Final Notice”. Same envelope as before. Of course. Static on the chat, lost in the feed, lost in the fine print of “fine”. The landlord shrugs as I dissolve. Just another ghost. Nuther white line. [Chorus] [Vocal: Rhythmic spoken-sung, cool, detached, announcement-like delivery] I’m alright, yeah? Or another lie? Bills paid. Rent due. Nothing promised. Stand by. Same old loop. Same old trap. Look at toes. Mind the gap. [Verse 2] [Conversational, slightly sharper articulation, restrained irony] Scrolled past faces polished smooth. Posted meals I didn’t buy. Every caption reads like truth. Every image tells a lie. Swiped right on emptiness, drained the battery dry. The only match left was me staring back. Asking why. [Verse 3] [Flat, observational, minimal inflection] Fridge light flickers. It might just pop. Milk gone sour, overnight. Half a lemon. Bread gone stale. Stinky cheese, smells like shite. Above me something scrapes the floor. Like they’re shifting something there. Someone coughs. Someone swears. Nothing changes. Nobody cares. [Bridge] [Slightly tighter phrasing, controlled build] Notice pinned by the council men. “Repairs delayed.” Backlogged again. One more glitch and bones will break. Recalling my life. “Error 404: Soul Not Found.” [Beat of silence] For heaven’s sake. [Chorus] I’m alright, yeah? Or another lie? Bills paid. Rent due. Nothing promised. Stand by. Same old loop. Same old trap. Look at toes. Mind the gap. [Outro] [Vocal: Spoken, intimate, understated] …Well. Coffee’s still cold. Doors closing. Please stand clear. Mind the gap.
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