Mmm, yeah
It's $39.99 every month
Auto-drafted from the account I never
closed The carrier keeps asking if I want to
Remove the second line
I tell them no voice cracking
Like it's the hundredth time they've proposed
I don't use the minutes, I don't touch the data
The phone that had your number sits dead in a drawer
But every 28th day they charge it
And I breathe easier knowing I can still
reach something that isn't here anymore
They say,
sir,
this line has had no activity in two years
I say that's not entirely true
I keep paying for the ghost in my family plan
Just to dial the number that doesn't ring anymore
Press 1 to hear you laugh,
press 2 for that old greeting Where you say
my name like you're still waiting at the door
I know it's pathetic,
I know it's insane But it's the only
place left where you still call me baby
So I'll keep the contract,
I'll keep the penny As long as Verizon keeps you alive,
man
Sometimes I call from the parking lot of the grocery
store When the silence in the car feels too loud
I sit there with the engine off,
holding my breath Until your voice comes on like mercy from a cloud
Hey,
it's me,
leave a message I'll call you back,
promise
God,
the way you stretch that promise like
it's forever I'd never leave one,
what would I even say?
I'm doing terrible,
but I hope you're doing better The
automated voice warns this mailbox is full
Funny,
my eyes been empty since you left
I keep paying for the ghost in my family plan Just
to hear the only I love you that hasn't hung up yet
Your laugh still lives in that 30-second recording
Like a butterfly pinned under glass I can't forget
I know one day they'll shut it down for good
Some agent will finally win and cancel the line
Until then I'll keep the bill paid in full So
your voice can keep saying name one more time
Maybe this is rock bottom,
dressed up as routine Maybe love
looks like monthly payments on a grain
I tell myself I'll let it go when I'm ready
But ready never comes,
and the due date's already set
I kept paying for the ghost in my family plan
Tonight the recording changed,
someone else's voice said
This number is no longer in service And just like that,
you died again
$39.99,
couldn't buy forever Turns out even voicemails move on
Now there's nothing left to call
And no one left to say my name at all
I still get the bill next month anyway,
and I pay it
Out of habit,
out of prayer,
out of the hope that maybe someday
Give dead numbers back
to the people who still live there