Lyrics
[Intro — soft instrumental] [Follow the supplied sample’s mood and phrasing. Gentle keys, distant city ambience, no drums.] [Ghostly female voices — distant, layered, powerful but haunting] Please tella me… Please tella me… Please tella me… Was there ever room for me? [Verse 1 — intimate female lead, restrained Neo-Soul delivery] Came with two bags and a room off the train, Wrote my name on the bell in the pouring rain. First night, ate on the floor by the bed, Watched the towers blink blue, made a life in my head. Knew which rooftop caught the last of the sun, Which backstreet kitchen stayed open till one. Loved the horns, loved the rows in the street, How the whole place moved underneath my feet. Then the shifts ran late and the rent went up, Boss said, “Smile,” when I’d had enough. Sent my work, got a “Love what you do— There’s no pay this time, but it’s good for you.” [Pre-Chorus — sub-bass enters, female harmonies gather] First year, I said, “Give it time.” Third year, “Something’s got to give.” Five years, standing under all those windows, Still wondering where I fit. [Chorus — melodic Trap, aching lead, gliding 808s] Please tella me, please tella me, How much more did you want from me? I loved your lights, I learned your streets, Why’s there nothing left when I try to leave? Last bus home and the sky’s gone black, Got my whole five years in the bags I packed. Maybe another time, somehow— I wanted you. But I can’t stay now. [Verse 2 — Brooklyn Drill percussion, sharper rhythmic delivery] Year two, new shoes for an interview, Walked home in the rain with the soles worn through. Year three, trained the man they promoted, Read the email twice, never let him know it. Year four, birthday on a closing shift, Mum sent a cake, couldn’t get to it. “Come out, come out”—couldn’t cover the fare, Started saying “I’m tired” till they stopped asking where. Year five, cried at the self-checkout, Card said no, had to put things down. Left the good bread, kept the cheapest tin, Went to work next day, did it all again. And I hate that I still know a place we could go, Little bar underneath where the wildflowers grow. Hate that the skyline can catch me off guard— Still get that feeling. That’s the worst part. [Pre-Chorus — drums cut; exposed vocal] There’s a girl getting off with a case like mine, Looking up like she’s just arrived. I move my bags so she can get through. God, I hope it’s good to you. [Chorus — fuller harmonies, heavier bass] Please tella me, please tella me, How much more did you want from me? I loved your lights, I learned your streets, Why’s there nothing left when I try to leave? Last bus home and the sky’s gone black, Got my whole five years in the bags I packed. Maybe another time, somehow— I wanted you. But I can’t stay now. [Bridge — soft keys return; distant bus engine] At the shelter, the timetable’s cracked, There’s a loose little thread on the sleeve of my jacket. Mum texts, “Last bus? I’ll leave on the light.” I type, “Yeah, coming.” Then, “Home tonight.” I loved the hidden stairs, the trains overhead, The café that knew what I’d order next. But I haven’t made a thing of my own since June. Every hour I sell just pays for my room. [Build — ghostly voices return, growing closer] Please tella me… Please tella me… [Lead — quiet, increasingly forceful] Was I meant to work for nothing? Was I meant to call it luck? When they changed the hours on Friday, Was I meant to just show up? [Drums build — rolling snares, rising strings, distorted bass] I swallowed every answer. I laughed at every slight. I saved it for the journey home. I’m saying it tonight. [Final Chorus — explosive full beat, raw female belt] PLEASE TELLA ME, PLEASE TELLA ME! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU WANT FROM ME? FIVE YEARS SAYING, “WAIT AND SEE”— I CAN’T GIVE YOU ANOTHER PIECE OF ME! I’M ANGRY THAT I HAVE TO GO! I’M ANGRY THAT I STILL DON’T KNOW HOW I COULD LOVE A PLACE THIS MUCH AND LEAVE WITH NOTHING I CAN HOLD! [Female choir — no ghostly effects; close, wounded, voices cracking] Please tella me! Please tella me! [Lead — soaring over choir] I needed somewhere I could grow! I needed more than getting through! And I’m so tired of feeling small WHILE LOOKING UP AT YOU! [Outro climax — driving drums, crashing cymbals, sustained harmonies] Keep the window clear— Let me watch the towers disappear. I’m going home. I’M GOING HOME. Maybe another time— BUT NOT NOW! NOT NOW! [One massive final chord. Instruments stop.] [Single female voice — unsteady, almost spoken] Please tella me… I can still be someone somewhere else.