Checked Out - S⁷A⁴M: Song Lyrics, Music Videos & Concerts

Checked Out

Dubstep

Checked Out was released on February 6, 2026 by 10646771 Records DK as a part of the album Checked Out - Single

Song Details

AlbumChecked Out - Single

Release DateFebruary 6, 2026

Label10646771 Records DK

LanguageEnglish

Melodicness

Acousticness

Valence

Danceability

Energy

BPM75

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

S⁷A⁴M (AI performance)

Vocals

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Steven A Moat

Songwriter

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Steven A Moat

Producer

Lyrics

Hey there, wasn't sure you'd show up

Really

Are you kidding

You wanna twist the fucking knife in my gut

For over five years I haven't shown up

For myself, for others, been stuck in a rut

Now every fucking time I walk into your office

You gotta remind me that I'm unreliable and worthless

Should be suing for fucking malpractice

Did my fucking mother hire you

Show you how to turn the screw

Give you some pointers

On how to ensure my mind stays out of order

Fuck you and fuck this bullshit office

I ain't some simple five minute project

I'm a delicate in depth restoration

The GC, the subcontractors, all on vacation

You really think you're a master electrician

A carpenter, a plumber all rolled into one

Nah, I don't think you could even hang sheet rock

And do all the mudding

Third time wasn't a charm it was a strike

Now I'm out, ain't goin' back to the dugout

Not gonna sit and wait for my next chance to swing

Supposed to be tee-ball not the fucking MLB

Give me some practice at swinging the bat

Instead it's been curveballs thrown hard and fast

That you think I can hit blind, unable to see

While holding a bat the size of a twig

I know what you think when you look at me

I know what you think when you look at me

Towering over you and everybody

You've clearly stated what you think of men

Your tales of working construction

How you had to prove yourself

Because you're a woman

A career you said you'd go back to in a split second

If somehow your body would mend

So here I am yet again

Another therapist, just here for a check

Tell you what, here's my playlist

I'm gonna leave, you can go listen

Turn it up loud, play it at ten

Maybe then you'll begin to understand

I'm not just a man, I'm a fucking person

Third time wasn't a charm it was a strike

Now I'm out, ain't goin' back to the fuckin' dugout

Back to the only therapy that rendered correctly

A stool, a glass, and a bartender that's friendly

Got me through more than half my life

Told it was bad for me, so I quit and I tried

Living the clean life, alcohol free

And now look at what's happened to me

Can't hold a job, all my confidence gone

Non-stop stress tearing me down

Thought the sober life was supposed to make my mind sound

Not turn up the volume on all the screams and shouts

Third time wasn't a charm it was a strike

Now I'm out, ain't goin' back to the fucking dugout

Have you tried grounding techniques Mindfulness

Breathing.. breathing.. breathing

Repeating shit over and over expecting a change

The oft quoted definition of fucking insane

I think that's this place's fucking business plan

Counting, colors, naming off things

Breathing, mindfulness, and fucking grounding

Trying to tether a balloon with a spool of silk thread

Haven't you listened when I said it keeps breaking

No you don't, repeated words on a page

That book over there sitting on the shelf

DSM manual needs to be thrown the fuck out

Or learned that it's not a book full of recipes

It only lists the basic ingredients

It's your job to turn them into something edible

Don't need to make beef wellington

A burger would do

But I'm afraid a simple PB & J might be above you

Third time wasn't a charm it was a strike

Now I'm out, ain't goin' back to the fuckin' dugout

Your advice is a track playin' on loop

Lines written by those with no clue

Used like a manual for fixing a car

Like a single book applies to us all

Might have similar basic parts

But the starter for a Honda ain't fittin' a Chevy

Not like you pop the fucking hood anyway

Your fix.. two hands on the wheel and a little more gas

Yet another shady mechanic, no thanks, I'll pass

Third time wasn't a charm it was a strike

Now I'm out, ain't goin' back to the dugout

Not gonna sit and wait for my next chance to swing

Supposed to be tee-ball not the fucking MLB

Give me some practice at swinging the bat

Instead it's been curveballs thrown hard and fast

That you think I can hit blind, unable to see

While holding a bat the size of a twig

So fuck it, it's back to therapy of the past

Only thing that ever helped me stay on the gas

Taking my foot of the brakes, and shifting gears

Top fuel dragster, alcohol fueled

I've seen what it's done to many a family

Started seeing that by the fucking age of three

But it kept me going from nine to five

Kept me going, kept me alive

Misery

Yeah, that's always been my mistress

But she's so much happier when she has a full glass of spirits

Written by: Steven A Moat

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