[Verse 1] Fine rain striped the shelter pane, headlights thinned the morning grey. I pressed record beneath a name. “Hope you’re well” was all I’d say. The red dot held against the black, small and steady on the screen. I felt the sentence pushing back; my tongue filed its edges clean. [Pre-Chorus] Rain on metal. Heel on stone. Nothing softened on its own. The microphone kept all of it. I stopped three words in. [Chorus] Three words in— the truth learns its manners. Three words in— my mouth makes it harmless. I cut the take as the sentence edits me. The whole truth gets thinner three words in. [Verse 2] I played it back against the glass, watched the waveform climb and fall. Bent “I know” into a guess, turned “this hurt” to “not at all.” By the time each pause sat clean, every peak had fallen in line. It could pass for something honest. It could never pass for mine. [Pre-Chorus] Rain on metal. Heel on stone. Nothing softened on its own. The microphone kept all of it. I stopped three words in. [Chorus] Three words in— the truth learns its manners. Three words in— my mouth makes it harmless. I cut the take as the sentence edits me. The whole truth gets thinner three words in. [Bridge] I left the red dot running when the sentence fell away. Rain struck metal. Someone laughed. One breath peaked above the rain. No greeting. No conclusion. No final line designed to fit. The microphone kept what was there before a sentence edited it. (I—) The screen began to dim. (no) I left the breath uncut. [Final Chorus] Three words in— the truth learns its manners. Three words in— my mouth makes it harmless. I keep the take— one breath still jagged on the screen. The whole truth gets thinner three words in. [Drop] The message sounded harmless. I sounded easy to delete. [Outro] A name above the waveform. One breath underneath. No delete. No send. Too bare to send. Too true to delete. (three words in)
