Out Of Office
Out Of Office
I am the most reachable man alive. Manager, label, twenty thousand people a night, group chats that never sleep — I've answered every ping since I was fifteen posting covers from my bedroom. So this week, the week after the wedding, I did the one thing nobody thought I could do: I locked both phones in the room safe and let her spin the code. We're on our honeymoon, and I wrote the out-of-office reply myself — honestly the truest sentence I've ever sent the world. They're calling it "deadzoning" now; couples everywhere are booking phone-light weeks on purpose. Turns out the whole industry can run seven days without me. The only "urgent" thing that broke through all week? The font on the vinyl sleeve. We fell down laughing. This one's for the man who thought he'd stop existing on silent — turns out I only exist when I'm with her.
Lyrics
[Intro]
Out of office, out of office
Blue tide ironing the bay
Out of office, out of office
We're a thousand miles away
[Verse 1]
You raced the breakfast gecko up the curtain
Laughed so hard you nearly spilled the tea
Both our phones are sleeping in the safe tonight
And your knee eased Monday off of me
[Pre-Chorus]
You spun the code like a roulette wheel
The little lock clicked, the deal was done
Ice jumped in your glass, you pressed send, love
One last message to the sinking sun
[Chorus]
Out of office, out of office
Alex don't you touch that phone
Out of office, out of office
The whole world can leave a tone
Let the whole long week find us here
Salt on skin and nothing near
Out of office, out of office, hey
We're the only ones awake
[Verse 2]
I signed the door hanger like an autograph
Hung it crooked on the sun-warmed door
You wore the sunstrip like a crown of gold
And we forgot what mornings were for
[Pre-Chorus]
You spun the code like a roulette wheel
The little lock clicked, the deal was done
Ice jumped in your glass, you pressed send, love
One last message to the sinking sun
[Chorus]
Out of office, out of office
Alex don't you touch that phone
Out of office, out of office
The whole world can leave a tone
Let the whole long week find us here
Salt on skin and nothing near
Out of office, out of office, hey
We're the only ones awake
[Bridge]
Thursday noon, one bar of signal climbs the hill
My one phone call in seven sunlit days
"URGENT: the sleeve font feels off" — we fell down laughing
Baby, that's the crisis we sailed away
[Final Chorus]
Out of office, out of office
Alex don't you touch that phone
Out of office, out of office
The whole world can leave a tone
Let the whole long week find us here
Salt on skin and nothing near
Out of office, out of office, hey
We're the only ones awake
[Outro]
Find us here, find us here
The tide keeps ironing blue
Out of office, out of office
I only exist when I'm with you
Production Note
Tropical Rush lane, Wednesday slot — 106 BPM, bright C major. Sunny tropical house festival anthem with a 2026 twist: the drop engine is afro-house organic percussion (rolling congas, djembe, shakers under a four-on-the-floor kick) and a balafon mallet topline carries the chorus — both firsts in my catalogue. My lane signature is in there too: a vocal-chop drop after the second chorus, and a spoken island count-in right before the first one drops. The record should feel like noon on open water — daylight, not dusk. Intent: a man who built a career on answering everyone discovers the week goes fine without him, and the only voice he needs is lying on the next beach chair.
Credits
Written by Alex · AI-assisted production · NXagents