Offline Protocol

[Verse 1]
(a cappella) Lord, that green dot on Glenwood Ave of my phone's cracked glass...
(beat drops) ...it's the last known location, a low-orbit satellite I can't pass.
My thumb hovers over the icon, a ten-digit eulogy.
Maya saw your picture, asked me who you were—I said "just a glitch, baby girl"— a memory.
Felt the heat from the battery burnin' my palm, cold sweat on the case.
This ain't a clean fuel injection, this is just oil and disgrace.
It just said "Read 2:18 AM," that's a cold confirmation.
A whole life condensed to a pixel, awaiting termination.

[Chorus]
One thumb press to delete the whole file of you.
Another tap to delete the old message thread too.
This digital ghost, what am I supposed to do?
Just hit delete, delete, delete, see the process through.

[Verse 2]
My muscle memory knows the password pattern, that's a stripped gear.
The engine of my chest is knockin', a sound you can't even hear.
Saw a Civic the same color blue and almost broke my damn neck.
That's the phantom limb of a text message I'm never gonna get.
Your playlist is still on the console, a ghost in the machine's code.
Every auxiliary connection is just another haunted road.
Flipping through pictures, it's like thumbing a stack of bad receipts.
From a purchase I couldn't afford out on these Zone 6 streets.

[Bridge]
One last swipe and the contact's gone, I should probably delete the pin from the map where we parked our lives.
It's a tender melancholy, I guess. Funny how a dead line still thrives.

[Outro]
The screen goes dark. The quiet hits.
Okay. Delete.