Muted, Not Blocked

Everybody told me, "Block her, man, it's healthier that way,"
and I held my thumb above it for an hour yesterday.
But blocking is a door, and muting's just a wall,
and I can't lock you out of everything at all.

I muted you, I didn't block you,
I don't wanna see you shine,
but if something ever happens,
I still need a sign.
I don't need your stories, or the parties, or the guy,
I just need to know you're breathing, I just need to know you're alright.

Once a week I check, just once, I swear it's not a lot,
a little gray dot that says you're out there, and it's all I've got.
I don't read the captions, I don't zoom in on his hand,
I just need some proof of life, and you'd never understand.

I muted you, I didn't block you,
I don't wanna see you shine,
but if something ever happens,
I still need a sign.
I don't need your stories, or the parties, or the guy,
I just need to know you're breathing, I just need to know you're alright.

'Cause if one day you're gone, and I hear it from a friend,
I don't wanna be the last to know how your story ends.

And tonight you sent a message, "I know you muted me,
I muted you too, I didn't block you, I just needed to see."
So we're two people standing on two sides of a wall,
checking once a week, and never saying anything at all.

Muted, not blocked...
still here.