[Verse 1]
Two-nineteen a.m., kitchen light's a tired moth,
I killed the app at two-eighteen, watched the screen go soft,
three seconds later my thumb's already back,
like a dog at a door that was never really shut.
Nothing's new, I know nothing's new, I checked it twice,
the feed's the same gray soup I left on simmer overnight,
my brain's sunk down in torpor, thick and slow like tar,
but still it drags me to the glow, same as the moth, the lamp, the jar,
eyes doing quick saccades, little jumps and little skips,
hunting for a crumb of something that was never on the list.
[Chorus]
I close it, I open it, three seconds flat,
a bored brain begging for a scrap, that's just how it is,
I close it, I open it, chasing nothing back,
this bored brain needs a workout, not another snack.
[Verse 2]
So here's the thing I'm learning, simple, kind of dumb,
press play on a record, lay the phone face down,
let the screen go dark on purpose, not from guilt, from choice,
let the cold piano and the low bass be the only voice.
Boredom's not a glitch, it's just an empty room,
so give it somewhere useful, give it something it can chew,
there's a game called Fact Rain where the questions fall like weather,
catch one right, you keep it, miss it, learn it, feel a little better,
the bored brain wanted stimulation, never cared the kind,
now it's catching little facts instead of scrolling blind.
[Verse 3]
I used to think the fix was willpower, grit, and shame,
staring at the icon like I could burn it with a name,
but habit doesn't listen when you yell or when you plead,
it just wants a rhythm, wants a different kind of feed,
so I stacked the deck a little, moved the apps around,
put the dictionary where the dopamine was found,
now when my hand goes wandering in the dark to find its fix,
it lands on something small and true instead of empty tricks,
a word I've never heard before, a star, a bone, a date,
small enough to swallow whole, too honest to be bait.
[Bridge]
Still some nights the itch comes back at two-nineteen,
thumb still drifts there on its own, habit's a stubborn thing,
I won't pretend it's cured, I just give it somewhere small to go,
a window isn't medicine, just a different kind of door.
[Chorus]
I close it, I open it, three seconds flat,
a bored brain begging for a scrap, that's just how it is,
I close it, I open it, chasing nothing back,
this bored brain needs a workout, not another snack.
[Chorus]
I close it, I open it, three seconds flat,
a bored brain begging for a scrap, that's just how it is,
I close it, I open it, chasing nothing back,
this bored brain needs a workout, not another snack.
[Chorus]
I close it, I open it, three seconds flat,
a bored brain begging for a scrap, that's just how it is,
I close it, I open it, chasing nothing back,
this bored brain needs a workout, not another snack.