[Verse 1]
Tuesday night, eleven tabs lit up the counter glow,
Three pizza joints, two sushi spots, a menu overload,
Phone sits at nine percent and I'm still scrolling for a sign,
Reading star reviews like they're gonna read my mind,
My roommate's in the kitchen going "just pick one already,"
I say "gimme a sec," forty minutes later, steady—
Spreadsheet open, columns for the price and for the drive,
By the time I pick, the kitchen's dark, it's nine thirty-five,
Not lazy, not picky, just drowning in the menu,
Every option whispers "maybe something better's coming to you."
[Chorus]
So many doors and I'm stuck here in the hallway,
Every choice feels wrong until I choose no way,
Too many maps and I can't find the stairway,
Standing still while the whole buffet goes cold and gray.
[Verse 2]
So here's the fix, small and plain, not some magic hand—
Place research lines the local shops up in a band,
Shows their packages right next to one another's price,
Map filters down by distance, cuts the choice in half, twice,
No more forty tabs, just four that actually matter,
Ranked by who's closer, who's cheaper, end of chatter,
And when my brain's too fried to pick a single song,
Shuffle on "Songs I Like" just rolls the dice along—
Decision made for me on the stuff that doesn't need me,
Saves my focus for the choices that'll actually free me,
Dinner's ordered, playlist's spinning, kitchen light stays on,
Small war won before the evening's even halfway gone.
[Verse 3]
Funny how it stacks up, all these tiny little calls,
Which shirt, which route, which show to stream before the night falls,
Death by paper cuts of options, none of them too big,
But add 'em up together and you're buried like a rig,
Science says the mind's got just so many picks a day,
Spend 'em all on sushi menus, nothing left to weigh
The real stuff—who to call, what dream to chase, what to forgive,
So clear the small stuff out the way and save the strength to live,
That's the trick nobody tells you when they hand you all this choice,
Cut the noise down to a whisper, find your own true voice.
[Bridge]
But the filter can't pick who you love or what you're for,
Some choices still get heavy, still get stuck behind that door,
The app just clears the clutter off the table, nothing more,
The hard ones still are yours to carry to the floor.
[Chorus]
So many doors and I'm stuck here in the hallway,
Every choice feels wrong until I choose no way,
Too many maps and I can't find the stairway,
Standing still while the whole buffet goes cold and gray.
[Chorus]
So many doors and I'm stuck here in the hallway,
Every choice feels wrong until I choose no way,
Too many maps and I can't find the stairway,
Standing still while the whole buffet goes cold and gray.
[Outro]
Lights go down, the tabs all close, the static finally clears,
One less maze to wander through after all these scrolling years,
Hallway's shorter now, the doors don't feel so loud,
Just the ones that matter, standing clear and proud.