Don't ask me to dim

Someone I liked asked me to turn it down — not the speakers, me. As if mood radiators came with a courtesy switch for date night. Don't Dim Me wrote itself in the hallway after, glow pads still in my ears, sincere belt refusing to apologize for green on the skin when the crush heat hit. Chart Without Armor is the cousin track: success without learning cruelty as stage makeup.

Spire Soft is for people who cry in nice rooms and still tip the booth well. Jump and Still Feel is for hop windows that amplify instead of numb — jump-lag as mood weather, not a calendar gag. Leave the Glamour On is me needing the light. Other acts sell shade as personality. I sell the forecast you can see on a face.

If your idea of pop is dock-shade glitter with a kiss-off in the pre-chorus, there are other dials. This one stays moss-glow and gold. Squawk me when the booth gets honest. Bring your own cover charge. I'll bring the tenor.