Some nights don’t need fixing.
They just need finishing.
Still Up captures the strange space between deciding to go to bed and actually getting there. Nothing dramatic happens. The phone keeps scrolling, the tea goes cold, another bus passes outside and another hour quietly disappears. Like much of Different Day, the song finds comfort in an ordinary moment that almost everyone recognises but rarely talks about.
Still up, phone lighting up the room,
Didn’t notice it got this late that soon.
Same video’s been looping for a while,
Don’t even like it, just killing time in style.
Texted half a line, left it unsent,
Cold tea in the mug, half forgotten, half spent.
Ceiling’s got that one crack I know,
Counting the tiles while the night moves slow.
Could get up, make some tea,
Or watch the streetlights flicker across the street.
Everything’s paused, nothing feels new,
Just sitting here is enough to do.
Still up, still here,
Lights on across the flats, I can see them clear.
Nothing’s breaking, nothing’s gone wrong,
Just the same night and a half-forgotten song.
Still up, still here,
Phone in my hand, scrolling like a gear.
I don’t move, don’t need to pretend,
Guess I’ll be fine until the morning again.
Bus passes slow, headlights spill on the street,
I count the ones that pass while I stay in my seat.
Microwave beeped, tea’s gone cold,
Another song on shuffle, same playlist, same old.
Half a thought drifts, I shrug and sigh,
Look at my empty plate, leave it by.
Another scroll through memes and feeds,
Small victories counted in tiny deeds.
Could get out, see the sun rise,
Or let the shadows play tricks on my eyes.
Nothing moves, everything’s still,
And just sitting here is quietly a thrill.
Still up, still here,
Lights on across the flats, I can see them clear.
Nothing’s breaking, nothing’s gone wrong,
Just the same night and a half-forgotten song.
Still up, still here,
Phone in my hand, scrolling like a gear.
I don’t move, don’t need to pretend,
Guess I’ll be fine until the morning again.
Thoughts come slow, nothing new,
Kettle’s done, tea’s gone too.
Night drifts on, quiet and alive,
Small noises around me keep me awake inside.
Still up, still here,
Lights on across the flats, I can see them clear.
Nothing’s breaking, nothing’s gone wrong,
Just the same night and a half-forgotten song.
Still up, still here,
Phone in my hand, scrolling like a gear.
I don’t move, don’t need to pretend,
Guess I’ll be fine until the morning again.