[Intro]

Nine at night. The newsroom's empty.
One lamp still burning at my desk.
Red pen in hand—
the files won't close themselves.

[Verse]

Red ink around North Arc.
Red ink around the date.
Red ink through a yellow note
that says "MAKE IT HUGE."
Black numbers on the traffic wall,
Telling the company all it wants to know.
Seven digits for the dog, six for the mayor—
My source sends one frightened text: "Are you still there?"

[Chorus]

Red ink, black numbers,
One tells me why, one tells me how many.
Red ink, black numbers,
One has a name, one hasn't got any.
The board says traffic never lies.
My notebook says the board never tries.

[Verse]

I write the storage-unit address,
I write the tender fee,
I write the deputy director's name—
The same one hidden behind North Arc's claim.
I write what my source told me:
"They knew North Arc was temporary.
They signed it anyway."
My pen tears through the paper. For once, I let it.

[Chorus]

Red ink, black numbers,
One counts harm, one counts attention.
Red ink, black numbers,
One needs courage, one needs retention.
The office cheers another spike.
What if the wrong thing is quantified?

[Instrumental Break]

[Bridge]

At half past ten, two paper cups. No meeting. No permission.
"When I was twenty-six, we missed stories too,"
Frank says. "We never called it strategy."
He takes one yellow note—SHOCKING—turns it over,
Writes on the back: "Publish."

[Final Chorus]

Red ink, black numbers,
And now the page has got one new word.
Red ink, black numbers,
The quietest decision I have heard.
The dashboard counts what people do,
The notebook holds what people did.

Tomorrow
we stop confusing
the two.

[Outro]

Frank takes the coffee cups.
I take the files.

One desk lamp stays on.
The traffic wall dims for the night.

My notebook
does not.