[Opening — fast pulse over the slow drone, both at once] Three a.m. and I'm awake the good way. Three a.m. and it's the same room. (Same room.) [Fast Verse 1 — activation, one breath] Scrubbed the stove till it shone like it's sorry. Opened the box the keyboard came in— Look at that. It's a keyboard. It was a keyboard the whole time. List on the counter. List on the door. Both phones charging. I'm crying. It's fine. I'm crying because the kitchen's clean. I can fix the whole year before the light gets in. [Slow Counter-Verse — low, underneath, unhurried] (None of it lands. Clean is a room with the lights on. You can move as fast as you want And still not be going anywhere. It isn't the year that's wrong.) [Chorus — euphoric and devastated at once] Throwing confetti at the funeral, Dancing because I can't sit down. Everybody's crying, everybody's laughing, It's the same body making the sound. Throwing confetti at the funeral— Somebody's got to fill the room. I've got all the energy I lost in February And nothing on earth to do with it but move. [Fast Verse 2] Rewrote the grocery list into a plan for the summer. Plugged it in. Played it—badly—loud—at three-fifteen. Neighbor knocked once. I said "Sorry!" like a party. I'm sorry. I'm a party. I'm the guest and the host. Phone: "You up?" Me: "Sorting some things out. Couldn't sleep. Figured I'd use it." (Somebody's leaving.) Made the bed. Unmade it. Better. Made it again. (Somebody's already gone.) [Chorus] Throwing confetti at the funeral, Dancing because I can't sit down. Everybody's crying, everybody's laughing, It's the same body making the sound. Throwing confetti at the funeral— Somebody's got to fill the room. I've got all the energy I lost in February And nothing on earth to do with it but move. [Ghost-Line Section — backing voices overlap once and fail; not a hook] (gotten good at carrying it—) (I don't need the sun—) (gravity in your name—) (nothing burning—) (all you get is the smile—) (the verdict's older than the case—) (no weather today—) All of you at once. All of you were right. Which one am I supposed to be? [Reality-Fracture Passage — sequence unreliable, both tempos smear] Did the keyboard come before the coat, or after? Did I clean the stove, or did I picture it clean? Something knocked. The wall, or the phone, or the pipes— Or December, still going in the other room. The apartment's set up perfect, Like somebody's coming to look at it. Like somebody's coming to look at me. [Recognition — both tempos drop out, lead alone, plain, sung low] Here's the one thing I know for sure tonight: I sound fine enough to frighten me. This much speed and this much nothing Should not be left alone in a room. I've landed wrong before and walked it off. This one, I'm asking for a hand. [The Call — spoken, dry, no melody, no music] Scroll past the name I never delete. Not that one. Not tonight. Someone with a Tuesday kind of face. [spoken] Ring. Ring. [spoken, plain] "Stay on the phone. You don't have to say anything. Just be a voice in the room." [Connection — spoken, one word, far away] "...Hey." [spoken, flat] It's a voice. [HARD STOP — silence. No hummed note, no tail, no tune after the connection.]
