Christmas Wires Speak In Morse

Verse 1
In a cramped living room that smells like dust and detergent, a plastic tree leans under cheap tinsel and tangled wire
Multi-color bulbs wink on and off in a pattern that doesn’t match the factory box
Someone set them to blink and walk away, yet they keep rearranging their rhythm
The couch sags, the TV mutters low, and that string on the wall starts spelling something no carol ever tried to sing

Verse 2
At first it feels like coincidence, the way certain bulbs flare when certain questions hang in the air
You laugh, tap the wall, tell a joke to nobody, and the green ones answer in sharp staccato flashes
Then names come up in conversation, real worry in the voice, and the red bulbs burn bright, hold, fade with a little afterimage burned into your eyes
Breath fogs slightly in the spot below that line of lights, even though the heater clicks steady and strong

Pre-Chorus
Household junk becomes holy tech when grief and terror lean on it
Cheap copper wire, plastic casings, a wall socket that never asked to be an oracle

[Chorus]
Wires speak in morse on chipped paint and nail holes
Every blink a syllable, every pause a held breath
You ask the dark for answers and the hardware store decorations flicker reply in broken code
Nothing about this is sane, yet walking away would hurt worse

Bridge
Neighbors drive past, see the glow through curtains, call it festive, maybe a little tacky
Only those in the room feel the hook in their chest when a certain bulb refuses to shine for a full minute
Finger traces over every bulb like beads, tapping, counting, begging the pattern to mean hope instead of warning
On the other side of plaster and insulation, something listens through wood studs and wiring, leaning closer every time the cord gets warm

[Chorus]