[Verse 1] The wire is cold below my palm, copper taste and morning salt. You are a low wave on the screen, two lines that almost touch again. I count the packets that did not make it, the words I wanted you to keep. Now there are only gaps between them, a hollow rhythm in the deep. [Chorus] Last Transmission, one breath left, last transmission, static mend. If my voice can reach across the river, let this be where the signal ends. Last Transmission, low and plain, your name is all I have to send. I fold it into every packet, then let the distance take its share. [Verse 2] You wrote your address in blue pencil, then crossed it out with coffee stain. I watched the waveform break and soften, like rain against a train window pane. My visor stays half open now, the cold air bites my cheek. If I say stay, it breaks the circuit; if I say away, it makes me weak. [Bridge] There is no grand conclusion here, no hero's turn into the light. Just one packet that repeats your laughter before it melts back into night. I hear my own breath in the speaker. I learn to love what stays unsaid. One more pulse, then I am listening to the wire instead of what you said. [Chorus] Last Transmission, one breath left, last transmission, salt and line. If your name can reach across the river, make it yours this time and mine. Last Transmission, low and plain, the screen goes dark, the signal thin. I fold my hands upon the console and let the quiet settle in. [Outro] The copper cools against my palm. A single note begins to drift. No more transmission needed now. Just the hum between our lips.
