No Bars
演唱：IG.2I wake in a room with the curtains slammed,
Status line thin like a borrowed dawn.
Top-right corner — two bars left;
your name lights up — then it moves on.
You text pull up, then switch the plan;
I pace the tiles with a paper cup.
Maps say close — my chest says jam;
I grip the phone like a dashboard cut.
Face-down glass — I count to three;
you’re on the map — but not for me.
No bars — no answer.
Signal shows — I don’t land here.
You set the rules — I chase the mark;
I press to speak — you fade to dark.
No bars — no answer.
Wave me on — I stall and stammer.
If touch needs proof you never grant,
I keep my hands — you keep your stance.
Fourth-floor walk-up with a metal grate,
your stories loop — they update late.
You crop the faces, trim the frame;
say nothing big — I taste the weight.
Same city grid — not the net;
same train home — a different debt.
Receipt says met — the night says not;
I bite my lip, let minutes clot.
Face-down glass — I count to three;
you’re on the map — not built for me.
No bars — no answer.
Signal shows — I don’t land here.
You set the pace — I match and ache;
I lift a word — you cut the take.
No bars — no answer.
Close on maps — far in the span.
If touch is paid in secondhand,
I keep my pulse — you keep your brand.
Dead-zone stairwell — metal hum, metal lung,
thumb on the glass — little buzz, little stun.
Rush in my ribs when your banner runs past,
crave what you drip, then you ration it fast.
Bars on the screen don’t mean we align,
you keep the gate — I keep the spine.
Proof isn’t pings — it’s a door and a face;
say it in air or I’m clearing the space.
Full bars — still no answer.
Five dots — still no dancer.
Good signal — bad transfer;
I learned the shape of almost us.
No bars — no answer (say less)
No bars — no answer (move next)
No bars — no answer (my step)
No bars — no answer (I’m set)
No bars — no answer (no chase)
No bars — no answer (own pace)
No bars — no answer (cut thread)
No bars — no answer (new head)
No bars — no answer.
Signal shows — I don’t land here.
You call it pace — I call it stall;
I take my range — I keep it clear.
I turn the corner, kill the scan,
walk where my feet don’t ask for plans.
If home is earned by who I am,
I raise my bars — not beg your hand.
Status line thin like a borrowed dawn.
Top-right corner — two bars left;
your name lights up — then it moves on.
You text pull up, then switch the plan;
I pace the tiles with a paper cup.
Maps say close — my chest says jam;
I grip the phone like a dashboard cut.
Face-down glass — I count to three;
you’re on the map — but not for me.
No bars — no answer.
Signal shows — I don’t land here.
You set the rules — I chase the mark;
I press to speak — you fade to dark.
No bars — no answer.
Wave me on — I stall and stammer.
If touch needs proof you never grant,
I keep my hands — you keep your stance.
Fourth-floor walk-up with a metal grate,
your stories loop — they update late.
You crop the faces, trim the frame;
say nothing big — I taste the weight.
Same city grid — not the net;
same train home — a different debt.
Receipt says met — the night says not;
I bite my lip, let minutes clot.
Face-down glass — I count to three;
you’re on the map — not built for me.
No bars — no answer.
Signal shows — I don’t land here.
You set the pace — I match and ache;
I lift a word — you cut the take.
No bars — no answer.
Close on maps — far in the span.
If touch is paid in secondhand,
I keep my pulse — you keep your brand.
Dead-zone stairwell — metal hum, metal lung,
thumb on the glass — little buzz, little stun.
Rush in my ribs when your banner runs past,
crave what you drip, then you ration it fast.
Bars on the screen don’t mean we align,
you keep the gate — I keep the spine.
Proof isn’t pings — it’s a door and a face;
say it in air or I’m clearing the space.
Full bars — still no answer.
Five dots — still no dancer.
Good signal — bad transfer;
I learned the shape of almost us.
No bars — no answer (say less)
No bars — no answer (move next)
No bars — no answer (my step)
No bars — no answer (I’m set)
No bars — no answer (no chase)
No bars — no answer (own pace)
No bars — no answer (cut thread)
No bars — no answer (new head)
No bars — no answer.
Signal shows — I don’t land here.
You call it pace — I call it stall;
I take my range — I keep it clear.
I turn the corner, kill the scan,
walk where my feet don’t ask for plans.
If home is earned by who I am,
I raise my bars — not beg your hand.