[Intro]
[Clean detuned guitar]
DING...
DANG...
DUNG...
[Small amp hum]
[Voice, almost whispered]
Don’t fix the chair.
It knows what happened.
[Verse 1]
There’s one chair
in the kitchen
with a book
under one leg.
Been like that
for six months.
Everybody says:
“Why don’t you fix it?”
I don’t know.
Maybe I like
that it remembers
the floor
isn’t straight.
My roommate left
a note on the fridge:
“Buy milk.”
He moved out
three weeks ago.
Still haven’t
taken it down.
The milk’s there.
He isn’t.
Funny system.
[Pre-Chorus]
People keep saying:
“Move on.”
Like there’s
a button.
Like somebody
forgot to show me
where it is.
[FRET SLAP]
CHAK!
[Silence]
[Chorus - full distortion]
DON’T FIX THE CHAIR!
LET IT LEAN!
DON’T CLEAN UP
EVERYTHING
THAT LOOKS UNEVEN!
DON’T FIX THE CHAIR!
DON’T MAKE IT NICE!
SOME THINGS WORK
BETTER
WHEN THEY DON’T SIT RIGHT!
I’M FINE!
[Cracked scream]
I’M FIIIIINE!
[Band crashes]
Probably.
[Verse 2]
I found your sock
behind the radiator.
Just one.
Of course.
Nothing ever leaves
in pairs.
I held it
for a second,
then laughed
because apparently
this is what adulthood is:
standing alone
in a kitchen
holding somebody’s sock
like it’s evidence.
I threw it away.
Then took it back out.
Then threw it away again.
Commitment.
[Pre-Chorus]
I’m getting better
at letting go.
Technically.
Some objects
require two attempts.
[FRET SLAP]
CHAK!
[Silence]
[Chorus]
DON’T FIX THE CHAIR!
LET IT LEAN!
DON’T CLEAN UP
EVERYTHING
THAT LOOKS UNEVEN!
DON’T FIX THE CHAIR!
DON’T MAKE IT NICE!
SOME THINGS WORK
BETTER
WHEN THEY DON’T SIT RIGHT!
I’M FINE!
[Cracked scream]
I’M FIIIIINE!
[Whispered double]
...sure.
[Break]
[Bass only]
[Voice, dry]
I bought a new chair once.
Sat in it.
Hated it.
Too stable.
[Guitar feedback]
Returned it.
[Drums slam back]
[Verse 3]
Maybe I’m sentimental.
That sounds disgusting.
Let’s call it
“poor disposal habits.”
Better.
Maybe I keep
broken things around
because they don’t ask
why I’m not fixed either.
There.
That sounded serious.
Forget I said it.
[Distorted guitar starts rising]
Actually—
don’t.
[FRET SLAP]
CHAK!
[Silence]
[Final Chorus]
DON’T FIX THE CHAIR!
LET IT SHAKE!
LET ONE BAD LEG
REMIND US
EVERYTHING CAN BREAK!
DON’T FIX THE CHAIR!
DON’T PAINT IT WHITE!
I DON’T NEED
EVERYTHING
TO LOOK ALL RIGHT!
I’M FINE!
I’M TIRED!
I’M BORED!
I’M TRYING!
[Voice tears into scream]
AND SOME DAYS
THAT’S CLOSE ENOUGH!
[Band nearly falls apart]
DON’T FIX—
DON’T FIX—
DON’T—
[Hard stop]
[Outro]
[Clean three-note guitar returns]
DING...
DANG...
DUNG...
[Chair creaks]
[Voice]
See?
Still works.
