[Intro]
[A kettle switch clicks three times before guitar, bass and drums answer in 6/8.]

Click. No flame.
Click. No glow.
A king asks water—
The water says no.

[Verse 1]
At seven-ten I wanted tea,
A modest tribute owed to me.
The kettle coughed, the socket spat,
Then silence filled the one-room flat.
I checked the fuse with royal scorn,
A plastic box both cheap and worn.
Why call a tradesman, wait and pay,
When heaven’s current knows my way?

[Pre-Chorus]
One finger raised, one muttered name,
One blue-white thread of ancient flame.
The eagle screamed, the curtains flew—
The ceiling learned what lightning knew.

[Chorus]
Lightning in a one-room flat,
Blue on the ceiling, smoke in the mat.
I raised one finger—the whole block went black;
The meter blinked once, then answered back.
I once split mountains with one command,
Now I can’t boil water without burning my hand.

[Verse 2]
The washer stopped on number four,
Wet shirts marched slowly through the door.
A baby cried one floor below;
Three tenants formed an angry row.
The freezer thawed, the lift stood still,
Old Mr. Klein missed half his pill.
I said, “Be calm, your god is here.”
They said, “The emergency electrician’s near.”

[Pre-Chorus]
My thunder rolled from pipe to pipe,
Then vanished with a feeble wipe.
The electrician checked the wall:
“Who put a crater in the hall?”

[Chorus]
Lightning in a one-room flat,
Blue on the ceiling, smoke in the mat.
I raised one finger—the whole block went black;
The meter blinked once, then answered back.
I once split mountains with one command,
Now I can’t boil water without burning my hand.

[Break]
[Bass and kettle clicks continue while the drums drop out.]

A clipboard.
A call-out fee.
A man in boots
Explaining volts to me.

[Verse 3]
He billed me twice for sacred heat,
Then wiped his boots upon my sheet.
He found my thunder in the mains
And circled “tenant caused the drains.”
The landlord wrote in rigid blue ink:
“One further strike, and we evict you.”
I signed my name, then crossed it through—
No mortal warning tells me what to do.

[Guitar Solo]
[A jagged slide-guitar solo follows the rhythm of flickering bulbs.]

[Bridge]
When I was young, the oak trees bowed;
No wire could cage a living cloud.
But power trapped in copper veins
Does not know kings—it only drains.
I heard the laundromat restart
Like some mechanical, mocking heart.

[Final Chorus]
Lightning in a one-room flat,
Black on the breaker, ash on the mat.
I raised one finger—the whole block went black;
A hundred small lives came shouting back.
I once held heaven in either hand—
Tonight I burned the tea and scorched the pan.
Lightning in a one-room flat:
Even gods need wiring that can handle that.

[Outro]
[Acoustic guitar plays the thunder motif softly as the kettle clicks without heating.]

Click. No flame.
Click. No glow.
I whisper, “Tomorrow.”
The kettle says no.