Verse 1
Alarm clock coughing up a migraine
Cheap coffee tastes like yesterday
Badge on my chest says smile politely
Voice in my head says run away
Neon lights hum like they know my name
Eight hours paid to be the blame
I log in, breathe out, sell my spine
To a queue that never ends in time
Pre-Chorus
They don’t hear me, they hear a screen
I’m just a throat with a scripted dream
Chorus
I’m your punching bag in a swivel chair
Your goddamn angel with a headset prayer
You scream my name like I broke your life
I just read the policy—don’t use the knife
On hold forever, yeah I drown in tone
You want a human, but you talk to a phone
Verse 2
“Supervisor,” you spit it like a threat
Like I keep one chained beneath my desk
Your rage is loud, your facts are thin
You missed the bill, now it’s my sin
You talk real big ‘bout lawyers and rights
While I mute you and count ceiling tiles
I could fix this in a minute flat
But rules got teeth and I like my back
Pre-Chorus
I say your name like it’s sacred ground
You say mine like it’s a dirty sound
Chorus
I’m your punching bag in a swivel chair
Your digital priest for your retail despair
You want blood but I give you calm
With a cracking voice and a deadpan psalm
On hold forever, static in my bones
You want a villain—congrats, I’m the phone
Bridge
There’s a scream trapped in my molars
There’s a laugh where my soul was
If kindness paid I’d own this town
Instead I clock out, head hung down
But I know something you don’t, mate—
I hang up and I reincarnate
Breakdown
Call volume high
Empathy low
This line is recorded
—yeah, I know
Chorus
I’m your punching bag in a swivel chair
Your calm, cool fix for a private nightmare
You call me useless, you call me slow
Still I’m the only one who won’t let go
On hold forever, but I survive
I’m dead on the line—still painfully alive
Outro
Click.
Breath.
Freedom rings.
Tomorrow morning the phone sings again.
Goz
