이자카야 (Izakaya)
Dark indie pop × minimal R&B. Cold, muted atmosphere with a slow, dry beat and minimal bass. No warmth, no cozy tones — just a late-night, exhausted mood like sitting in a dim izakaya after work. Female vocal, whisper-like and restrained, half-spoken and half-sung, holding back emotion with a tired, breathy delivery. Short, dry reverb, clipped phrase endings, subtle vocal layer tension. The section repeating “wiro, wiro, wiro” should feel increasingly hollow and distant. Overall vibe: emotional fatigue, social masking, suppressed voice, and a cold, minimal dark pop texture.
이자카야 (Izakaya)
Dark indie pop × minimal R&B. Cold, muted atmosphere with a slow, dry beat and minimal bass. No warmth, no cozy tones — just a late-night, exhausted mood like sitting in a dim izakaya after work. Female vocal, whisper-like and restrained, half-spoken and half-sung, holding back emotion with a tired, breathy delivery. Short, dry reverb, clipped phrase endings, subtle vocal layer tension. The section repeating “wiro, wiro, wiro” should feel increasingly hollow and distant. Overall vibe: emotional fatigue, social masking, suppressed voice, and a cold, minimal dark pop texture.
Lyrics
퇴근 뒤 원치 않는 자리에서
속으로만 삼켰던 한 줄의 마음.
“이제, 그만… 퇴근시켜줘.”
A moment after work,
stuck in a place I never wanted to be.
A quiet thought whispered inside:
“Please… let me go home.”
-------------------------------------------------------------
지금 나는, 이자카야
오고 싶지 않았는데 이 곳이네.
언제 왔는지 기억도 안나는데,
아직도, 이 짓거리
벗어나고 싶은데...
이제 가야지
생각은 하지만, 일어나질 못하네.
테이블에 놓여 있는 먹을거리
레이블 붙여, 한 잔씩 비우는 잔,
한 잔,마다 태그 달아,
한 마디씩, 빈 말 얹어주기
진심은 테이블 밑 손가락으로.
지금 시간은,
테이블 위 비위 맞추기, 시간.
집에가고 싶어, 생각 하지만
못가니까, 머리 비우고,
텍스트 톤으로 기분 맞추기
기분, 못 맞추면, 길어져
더 힘들어져,
무시 받아도 활짝,
욕 먹어도 활짝,
입 가는 항상 방긋,
눈꼬리와 입꼬리 모두 위로
테이블 위가 비어지지 않게 위로.
이 테이블에서 벗어날 때까지
그저 위로, 위로, 위로...
끝났다 싶었는데, 왜,
“자! 이제 이차 가야지!”
아니, 싫어, 집 가고 싶어!
속으로만 삼켜.
이제, 그만, 퇴근, 시켜줘.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Right now, I’m at this izakaya,
a place I never wanted to come to.
I don’t even remember
when I got here,
but I’m still stuck
in this same old mess—
and I just want to escape…
I tell myself it’s time to leave,
but my body won’t move.
Food scattered across the table,
labels on the dishes,
glasses emptied one by one,
each drink tagged,
each small talk layered with empty words—
while my real feelings
hide under the table,
fidgeting at my fingertips.
Right now,
it’s time to read the room,
time to play along.
I want to go home,
but since I can’t,
I clear my head,
adjust my tone,
match their mood.
If I don’t, the night drags on,
and everything gets harder.
Even when ignored, I smile.
Even when scolded, I smile.
My lips always curve upward,
my eyes pulled into a cheerful shape—
just to keep this table
from feeling empty.
Until I finally break free,
I just keep lifting myself up,
up,
up…
I thought it was over, but then—
“Alright! Let’s hit the second round!”
No… I don’t want that.
I just want to go home.
But I swallow it all inside.
Please…
just let me go.
Let me clock out.