We sit together on the sofa, with the music way down low. We wait for a perfect, unhurried moment to finally connect. And just as the universe seems aligned, the phone rings. A wrong number. A minor, trivial interruption that completely breaks the spell.

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However, there seems to be a misunderstanding or a typo in the name provided. There is no widely recognized musical act called "I Art Company." It is highly likely you are referring to or perhaps the new wave band I Start Counting (though the title doesn't match their hits), or possibly an obscure indie band.

The lyrics follow a narrator finally alone with his crush on a sofa, only to be repeatedly interrupted by reality. From a "wrong number" phone call to the magic simply fizzling out, the song perfectly balances nostalgic infatuation with relatable frustration. 1984. Genre: Reggae-pop with an irresistible sing-along chorus.