[Verse 1]
11:42, laptop glow on the ceiling,
typing in the same eight digits I've been feeling
good about since autumn, dog's name and a zero,
site says nope, says "that's your old one, hero."
Add a dollar sign, add a capital letter,
feels like filling out a form to feel worse, not better,
three strikes and it locks me, timer counting backward,
twenty minutes staring at a cursor going awkward.
I just want my playlist, want my half-written email,
not a riddle from a robot playing warden in a jail.
Every site's got rules like it invented locks and keys,
meanwhile I'm reusing "August2019" with ease,
scribbling the new one on a napkin by the sink,
already know by morning I won't remember what I think.
[Chorus]
I don't wanna remember, I just wanna get in,
tired of proving who I am just to begin again.
I don't wanna remember, just let me get in,
same old me, new door, let me in.
[Verse 2]
So here's the quiet fix, no fortress to be building:
sign in with the company whose logo's half-eaten,
no password made, so none for you to lose,
your face or your thumb does the choosing you use.
And the keys to your messages, the ones that keep them yours,
sit safe in a locker called the Keychain, behind other doors,
so delete the whole app, toss it, start over clean,
reinstall it Tuesday, the chats are still there, serene.
No sticky note taped to the monitor's side,
no "mother's maiden name plus the year that she cried,"
just a glance at your phone and the door just gives,
one less thing to carry in the life that you live.
[Bridge]
Some locks you'll still carry, some sites never learn,
old accounts, old logins, slow to take their turn.
Not every door's open, not every form is kind,
but one less key to juggle is one less weight to mind,
and some mornings that's plenty, that's all I came to find.
[Verse 3]
My grandmother kept hers in a little leather book,
a page for every door, in that careful, slanted look,
she'd lick her thumb and flip to find the bank, the church, the store,
and I used to think that method was a quiet kind of chore.
Now I'm the one who's drowning in a hundred different screens,
asking what's a street I lived on, what a color even means,
so maybe it's not weakness wanting one key for it all,
maybe it's just tired hands that don't wanna climb the wall.
The future isn't flying cars, it's simpler than that dream,
it's just a door that knows you by the way you move, you gleam,
no hoops, no backup questions, no forgetting, no despair,
just you, approaching slowly, and the lock already there.
[Chorus]
I don't wanna remember, I just wanna get in,
tired of proving who I am just to begin again.
I don't wanna remember, just let me get in,
same old me, new door, let me in.
[Chorus]
I don't wanna remember, I just wanna get in,
tired of proving who I am just to begin again.
I don't wanna remember, just let me get in,
same old me, new door, let me in.