[Verse 1]
Four forty-two, kitchen light doing its hum,
zipper teeth catching on a rolled-up pair of socks and my thumb.
I already checked the toiletry bag three separate times tonight,
counted travel bottles like they owe me money, held each one up to the light.
Brain keeps whispering maybe something slipped in sideways,
a stowaway in the lining from some other trip, some other highway.
I didn't pack a thing that isn't mine, I know the facts cold,
but my stomach's already standing in that gray bin line, feeling old.
Picturing the officer's face going still, going slow,
like I'm a crossword with one answer I somehow don't know,
and the clock on the wall just ticks like it's keeping score.
[Chorus]
It's just a zipper and a worried little head,
the bag is clean, it's only the fear that's packed instead.
It's just a zipper and a worried little head,
the bag is clean, it's only the fear that's packed instead.
[Verse 2]
So here's the small thing: I stop patting pockets and I breathe,
I lay the bag open on the hallway floor, let the cat come sniff and leave.
I say it plain, out loud, to nobody but the hallway wall,
"there's nothing here but cords and gum and one squashed banana, that's all."
Then I let the directions take the worry off the clock instead,
the app watches the roads, counts the minutes, calls out green or red ahead.
So I'm not doing math on traffic while I'm doing math on fear,
that's one less number stacked on the pile I'm trying to clear.
The drive gets handled, mile by mile, quiet in my hand,
which frees up room to just stand calm in line like anybody can,
shoes off, belt off, nothing left to carry but a plan.
[Verse 3]
At the airport now, fluorescent hum taking over the kitchen's job,
rolling bag wheels stuttering, heart doing its usual throb.
I watch the belt swallow shoes and laptops, swallow strangers' calm,
and I remind myself again: my hands know how to stay balm.
The line moves slow, but it moves, and that's the whole plan,
just breathe, just step, just trust the checked bag in my hand.
[Bridge]
Some mornings the scanner beeps and it's only my belt,
some mornings the fear doesn't leave just because it's been dispelled.
I'll still check the bag, I'll still double-check the seam,
that part doesn't vanish, it just shrinks down smaller than the dream,
small enough to fit in a pocket I forget by baggage claim.
[Chorus]
It's just a zipper and a worried little head,
the bag is clean, it's only the fear that's packed instead.
It's just a zipper and a worried little head,
the bag is clean, it's only the fear that's packed instead.
[Chorus]
It's just a zipper and a worried little head,
the bag is clean, it's only the fear that's packed instead.
It's just a zipper and a worried little head,
the bag is clean, it's only the fear that's packed instead.