Voicemail Static

[Intro] Your voice in a speaker the size of my palm Kitchen light buzzing, everything wrong [Spoken Voicemail] "Hey, I just wanted to say I got home safe… call me when you can." [Verse 1] You sound tired in a way you never write Mouth on the phone, half here, half night Taxi in the background, door with a slam Keys on a table, somebody laughs You say my name like it weighs too much Joke about the weather, skip the deeper stuff The line compresses every part of you Into a tiny ghost that’s coming through [Chorus] Static in your voicemail Hissing like a second thought Trying not to hear the things You never said out loud Static in your voicemail Snow between the measured words I keep pressing play again Till every silence hurts [Verse 2] I know this message is two months old Saved with receipts and a movie stub fold Thumbprint smudge on the cracked glass screen Little museum of what you meant to me You clear your throat like you might confess Then swallow the moment and talk about stress Signal drops once, then pulls itself back Tiny apocalypse inside the track [Chorus] Static in your voicemail Hissing like a second thought Trying not to hear the things You never said out loud Static in your voicemail Snow between the measured words I keep pressing play again Till every silence hurts [Bridge] If I delete you, do you disappear Or move to some archive I cannot reach Is there a server that still holds your breath Tucked in a folder labeled "unread" Maybe you never meant any of this Maybe it is me that is filling the hiss Reading devotion in background noise Building a future from broken toys [Breakdown] [Softly, almost spoken] "I got home safe… call me when you can…" The line clicks off, and I start again [Chorus] Static in your voicemail Hissing like a second thought Trying not to hear the things You never said out loud Static in your voicemail Snow between the measured words I keep pressing play again Till every silence hurts [Outro] Phone face down on the kitchen tile Light blinking green like a fragile lie