Little Miss Doom-Scroll — Two Hours Lost, Lights Off

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
Thumb flicks up at 1:07 AM,
Samsung S22's glow cuts the black sheet folds.
Emily's room on Elm Street, third floor,
where the curtain gap lets in a sliver of streetlight from below.
Feed pulls her in—Kyiv rubble at dusk, June 14th,
then a California wildfire, ashes on a Dodge pickup.
Eight seconds, swipe, Greenland ice shelf cracks,
thumb won't stop, muscle memory from 2018.

[Chorus]
Glow from the bedside table, oak from IKEA 2021,
world's awful in clips, thumb the tireless engine.
No reply to the headlines, just scroll past Aleppo ruins,
passive as the charger cord warms under her pillow.
Two hours lost, lights off, Emily's eyes fixed,
on the pixel storm that never asks for her hand.

[Verse 2]
Swipe to a tweet from @GlobalWatchNow, 2:19 AM,
refugee boat off Lampedusa, waves like black oil.
Then TikTok clip, eight seconds of Amazon deforestation,
chainsaw whine muted, thumb flicks to stock market plunge.
Bedside lamp unplugged since March 5th,
only the screen's blue-white fever lights her chin.
Emily whispers to no one, "Just one more,"
but the algorithm knows her better than David did.

[Bridge]
What if she dropped the phone in the drawer,
locked it with the key from Grandma's estate sale?
But the glow calls back, thumb itches at 1:47,
world's pain served fresh, no action required.

[Verse 3]
Final swipe at 3:02, battery at 17 percent,
last clip: polar bear on melting floe, dated May 22nd.
Emily sets it down, glow fades on the table,
but the images linger like smoke in her curtain fabric.
Tomorrow's alarm at 7:15, thumb rested,
ready for the next night's quiet surrender.

[Outro]