Song Story · AI-assisted
DELETE ME SLOW
Eight hundred files cannot hold a whole relationship.
The story in the song
Eight hundred files cannot hold a whole relationship. In DELETE ME SLOW, the worst month has pictures, while the best week has none. A narrator waits for someone else to press delete and asks for ten quiet seconds to survive a little longer. Then the bridge changes the request: the person asking for patience has already erased the other person in one tap. That uneven exchange gives the final dark screen its weight. Listen for how the count changes each time the chorus returns.
About these notes
AI-assisted editorial based on the matched lyrics. Reviewed and approved by Bailey.
Words from the artist’s archive
DELETE ME SLOW lyrics
Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.
Read the lyric sheet
Intro
Delete all. One gray button. The phone wants to know if you mean it. You haven't told it yet. So I've got till the screen goes dark.
Verse 1
Three years, and on your screen it's a strip the width of your thumbnail. Kitchen dark. Fridge hum. The blue of it under your chin. Frame forty: my coat on your chair. You must have liked the light. The night we missed the exit and kept on to the county line, your boots on the dash, the wipers' slap, you reading the signs. I've run that one so many times the road's gone dry, and I still miss the exit. On purpose, now. I let it go by.
Chorus
Before you delete me, play the ten seconds where neither of us talks. Two breaths, a train, and you laughing at something I never saw. Don't do it in one tap. Do it like weather. Press it and hold. One, two, three, four. Let go. Delete me slow.
Verse 2
There's one where I'm half a face. The rest of me went when you turned. One of your stove at two a.m. No light. No reason. Nothing burned. The worst month's got three. The best week we had has none. Eight hundred files, and I can't reach one. Not one. I'd pinch the glass till it broke into squares, if I still had the glass. Every night my thumb goes looking and all it finds is black. The only me who still has you is in your hand. Give him the night.
Chorus
Before you delete me, play the ten seconds where neither of us talks. Two breaths, a train, and you laughing at something I never saw. Don't do it in one tap. Do it like weather. Press it and hold. One, two, three. Stay on three. Delete me slow.
Bridge
Tuesday, March, the lot behind the laundromat on Vine: I went first. All of you. One tap. I never read the sign. Nine hundred and twelve seconds. The bar went gray, and stopped. I kept the engine on and waited for the floor to drop. It didn't. I got a coffee. I slept nine hours in my clothes. Take longer with me than I took with you. That's all. That's all I know.
Chorus
Before you delete me, play the ten seconds where neither of us talks. Two breaths, a train, and you laughing at something I never saw. Don't do it in one tap. Do it like weather. Yours went in eleven seconds. I was up way past four. Delete me slow.
Outro
The screen goes dark on its own.
Inside the recording
Delete all. One gray button. The phone wants to know if you mean it. You haven't told it yet. So I've got till the screen goes dark.
Before you delete me, play the ten seconds where neither of us talks.
The screen goes dark on its own.
Excerpts from artist-supplied lyric files matched by title. Lyric sheets may differ from the released performance.