Every Charger In The House

(oh-oh-oh) Sam, where'd my cable go?

Three plugs vanished overnight, found one under your bed, all right. I buy a new one, blink, it's gone — you've built a museum, and it's all mine, Sam.

Twelve percent and climbing down, you're the cable bandit of this town. I'd be angrier, I swear I would, but you're the only thief who makes me feel this good.

'Cause you shouted for me when nobody else did, front row and roaring since we were both kids.

Sam, you took every charger in the house, and somehow I don't mind. My hype man, my loudest sound, the best one of our kind. So take the cables, take the lot — just don't take all the noise you've got.

Now the flat's too clean, too still, no one yelling from the windowsill. A drawer of plugs, all mine to keep, and a quiet I can't get used to in a week.

So go be brilliant, go be loud, be the one who lifts the crowd. I'll leave one charger by the door for when you're back and shout some more.

Sam, my hype man, leave the light on low. (oh-oh-oh) Sam, where'd my cable go?