[Intro — radio static, distant room tone] [Spoken, almost whispered] There’s nothing here. That’s what they told me. [Verse 1 — intimate, sparse] Between the stations Where the numbers disappear I found an empty channel With something breathing there A chair across the floorboards A kettle settling down Someone crossed a hallway But there was no one around [Pre-Chorus] I turned the dial a fraction The signal almost died Then somewhere in the silence I heard my door unlock [Chorus] On the quiet frequency Someone lives ahead of me Twelve hours through the static Half a day beyond my reach On the quiet frequency Every sound comes back to me My footsteps in the hallway Before my feet have moved [Verse 2] Tuesday, seven-thirty A cup fell to the floor I wrote the time beside it And waited by the door Seven-thirty came The cup slipped from my hand I watched the pieces scatter Exactly as I’d heard [Instrumental passage — Rhodes, analogue arpeggio, Carnatic violin] [Verse 3] So every night I listened To tomorrow through the wall Keys upon the counter Water running in the hall A record turning softly My coat thrown on the chair The little life awaiting me Already happening there [Pre-Chorus] Then underneath my footsteps Another rhythm grew Too slow to be an echo Too close to be confused [Chorus] On the quiet frequency Someone walks behind me Twelve hours through the static Getting closer every beat On the quiet frequency I can hear tomorrow breathe I hear myself come through the door And something enters after me [Reveal — drums disappear] [Whisper] 10:42. My key turns. My shoes on the floor. One step. Two steps. Then mine stop. The others don’t. [radio interference] [Bridge — Tamil, soft female voice] யாரோ என் பின்னால் நிழலாக வருகிறார் நாளை இன்னும் வரவில்லை ஆனால் நான் கேட்கிறேன் (Yārō en pinnāl niḻalāga varugiṟār nāḷai iṉṉum varavillai āṉāl nāṉ kēṭkiṟēṉ) [English response] Someone behind me Moving like a shadow Tomorrow isn’t here yet But I can hear it coming [Final Chorus — controlled, hypnotic] On the quiet frequency Don’t tell me what it means Don’t tell me to stop listening Don’t wake me from the signal On the quiet frequency Ten forty-two repeats My footsteps reach the doorway And then— [Music cuts] [Whisper, close] Tonight I won’t go home. [Silence] [very distant sound of a key entering a lock] [Outro — radio drift] But somewhere on the frequency The door still opens.
