Delete the frame

the numbers

bpm

103

key

D# minor

energy

0.74

dance

0.91

valence

0.47

vocal at

11.3s

length

2:58

language

En

lyrics

I found you in a wallet slip, tucked under Nollywood receipts

At the bus stop by Peckham Rye, rain tapping out the sheets

Your shirt was blue from that July in Lekki by the heat

Now I fold the page with shaking hands, I keep it off my teeth

I put it face down on the shelf, next to my keys and cream

But every time the kettle sings, it cuts through the steam

My thumb knows every corner, every crease, every seam

I want it gone, I want it gone, but it stays in the machine

Delete the frame

Delete the frame

Delete the frame

Delete the frame

I cannot hold it, cannot name

You’re leaning by the payphone near the corner shop in Brixton

Red plastic chair, one bent leg, the flash caught all the friction

My old green nail found your sleeve, then stopped before the picture

I left it in the drawer with lace and coins and a cracked Bible scripture

I put it face down on the shelf, next to my keys and cream

But every time the kettle sings, it cuts through the steam

My thumb knows every corner, every crease, every seam

I want it gone, I want it gone, but it stays in the machine

Delete the frame

Delete the frame

Delete the frame

Delete the frame

I cannot hold it, cannot name

At midnight, I almost tore it clean, then I heard your laugh

From the yellow cab on Boleyn Road, from the other half

So I slid it back beside my passport, under the receipt pad

If I look, I lose my balance; if I don’t, I stay sad

Delete the frame

Delete the frame

Delete the frame

Delete the frame

I cannot hold it, cannot name