[Verse 1]
Seven fifty-two, the table's booked for eight,
I'm orbiting Fifth and Church like a slow satellite, late,
Same red pickup rolls by me a third time round,
A fire hydrant's hogging ten feet of empty ground,
Meter maid's chalking tires, barely looks my way,
My shirt's stuck to my back, forgot there's a farmers market today,
Past the bakery, past the bank, past that guy with his dog,
He's got nowhere to be, I'm stuck here like a log,
Floating in a loop, no exit, no door,
Just me and this block I've seen four times before.
[Chorus]
Twenty minutes gone and I never left the block,
Already late, just losing to a clock I can't stop.
Twenty minutes gone and I never left the block,
Already late, just losing to a clock I can't stop.
[Verse 2]
So Tuesday, before I'm jingling my keys by the door,
I check a little number I ignored before,
It counts the lights, the traffic, the whole slow crawl,
Says eight-fourteen arrival — fourteen minutes, that's all,
Not a guess, not a hope, just a plain honest sum,
Told before I'm even backing out, before I come,
So I text the table: "running a little behind,"
They say "no rush," and that eases my mind,
I'm still gonna hunt for a spot on that street,
But at least I'm not blindsided, at least I'm not beat
By a surprise — I saw the number, I planned,
Small thing, sure, but it's something I can understand.
[Bridge]
There's still no spot waiting with my name on the curb,
The hydrant's still there, the truck's still smug and superb,
Nothing fixes the block, the block stays the same,
But knowing the minutes takes some of the blame
Off my shoulders — I'm late, but I called it first,
Which beats finding out mid-circle, which is worse.
[Verse 3]
Now I think about the meetings I used to just guess through,
Walking in blind to a calendar I barely knew,
A rough estimate, a coin flip, a hopeful stride,
Now there's a number running quiet by my side,
Not glamorous, not flashy, just data doing its job,
Turning chaos into something I can rob
Of its sting — the waiting, the wondering, the fear,
Replaced by a countdown clean and clear,
It won't make the lights turn green any faster,
But it turns the unknown into something I master,
And maybe that's the trick, the quiet little art,
Of being late with knowledge instead of in the dark.
[Chorus]
Twenty minutes gone and I never left the block,
Already late, just losing to a clock I can't stop.
Twenty minutes gone and I never left the block,
Already late, just losing to a clock I can't stop.
[Chorus]
Twenty minutes gone and I never left the block,
Already late, just losing to a clock I can't stop.
Twenty minutes gone and I never left the block,
Already late, just losing to a clock I can't stop.