[Intro]
[Detuned acoustic guitar plays two notes; harmonium completes the third.]

[Verse 1]
[Hugin]
The vending machine keeps a permanent glow.
It offers six dinners in one plastic row.
I choose nothing salty and nothing too sweet.
I have lost the sensation of wind under feet.

[Munin]
The sink holds three cups with a brown coffee ring.
I know who once owned them; I know every ring.
But the names have grown heavy, too many to bring.
I remember each worker and forget how to sing.

[Chorus]
Ravens in the break room,
Black wings under white light,
Drinking bitter water at a quarter after midnight.
Ravens in the break room,
No message left to bring—
One forgot tomorrow, one forgot the king.

[Verse 2]
[Hugin]
I used to return with the shape of a thought.
Now thought is a ticket that someone forgot.
I circle one question till meaning turns thin:
Was I locked from the system, or locked further in?

[Munin]
I carry the birthdays, dismissals and calls,
The photograph boxes removed from the halls.
But memory buckles when everything stays.
A mind needs forgetting to measure its days.

[Chorus]
Ravens in the break room,
Black wings under white light,
Drinking bitter water at a quarter after midnight.
Ravens in the break room,
No message left to bring—
One forgot tomorrow, one forgot the king.

[Instrumental Break]
[Brushed drums stop; bass and harmonium hold the motif beneath two slowly separating guitar lines.]

[Bridge]
[Hugin]
Shall we go before Friday begins?
[Munin]
Where would we fly with these clipped office wings?
[Hugin]
Anywhere weather is more than a chart.
[Munin]
Anywhere memory has room to depart.
[Hugin]
Would Odin forgive us for leaving tonight?
[Munin]
Would Odin remember what freedom feels like?

[Break]
[Odin]
I heard every word
Through the half-open door.
I wanted to enter.
I stood on the floor.

[Final Chorus]
Ravens in the break room,
Black wings under white light,
Two old friends deciding whether loyalty is right.
Ravens in the break room,
Thought has lost tomorrow;
memory mourns the king.

[Outro]
I leave them alone with the humming machine.
My reflection looks small in its corporate sheen.
For the first time in ages, I make no command.
Two ravens sleep close. I unclench my hand.