Phantom Power

[Verse 1]
The KRK cone's a tired yellow eye at half past three.
Watched her delete the sixteenth bar, impatiently.
The interface is blinking red, a frantic SOS.
The stale air tastes of caffeine and a quiet kind of stress.
She's been building scaffolding that's designed to fall apart,
Rewiring the architecture of a misdiagnosed heart.
I've seen the blueprints crumpled up, the biro leaking through,
Another Tuesday morning bleeding into Mancunian blue.

[Chorus]
And I hold the take, the one she's gonna keep.
I drink the sound when the whole damn city is asleep.
I'm the four walls that heard the load-bearing beat.
I'm the phantom power running under the street.

[Verse 2]
There's a hairline fracture in the mug from October '22,
The night she tried to sample the first carriage on the tram to Piccadilly, but the gain was askew.
Saw her trace the waveform with a finger on the glass,
Whispered to my plasterboard, "this feeling's got to pass."
She's mapping out the city grid with half-rhymes and with doubt,
Just trying to find the one right phrase to finally let it out.
The radiator ticks a rhythm she's been trying to ignore,
A metronome for every single draft that died before.

[Bridge]
Just the kick. Just the hat.
She mumbles, "run it back."
Just the snare. Just the air.
The structure of a prayer.

[Outro]
The dust motes dance in the monitor light, now it's done.
The echo of the playback waits for the rising sun.