Third Drawer Down

[Verse 1]
The third drawer down by the hob, it sticks on the runner.
Full of dead batteries, a single Nike trainer from a summer
in Moss Side, twenty-seventeen, before the first letter.
A schematic for a structure I thought I’d build better.
The rust-dust on the Phillips head, the smell of old plasticine.
A Metrolink ticket, faded to a pale shade of green.
Each component part is a record of attrition and strain,
a catalogue of hairline cracks forming in the Mancunian rain.

[Verse 2]
You said, "Just bin the lot, it's only taking up space."
Said it on the phone from some sun-bleached, forgettable place.
Spare key to a gaff I don't live in, a cracked screen protector.
The load-bearing lie from a part-time benefactor.
This isn't a memorial, it's a bloody stress test.
A private inventory of what buckled, what's left.
I'm keeping the scaffolding, even with the facade all stripped back.
Try to build the next floor on a foundation this cracked.

[Chorus]
This is the torsion test for the things you keep.
This ain't a eulogy, I'm just losing sleep.
Every loose screw's a promise, every wire's a debt.
Haven't thrown it out yet. Nah, haven't thrown it out yet.

[Bridge]
The blueprint's obsolete, the material's degraded.
But the spec is in my bones, the memory hasn't faded.

[Chorus]
This is the torsion test for the things you keep.
This ain't a eulogy, I'm just losing sleep.
Every loose screw's a promise, every wire's a debt.
Haven't thrown it out yet. Nah, haven't thrown it out yet.

[Outro]
The drawer's still open.
The air's getting cold.