[Intro] [Single note descending guitar line, quarter notes, open string ringing between each] [Sparse bass, no drums] [Verse 1] [Quiet exhausted male vocals, almost spoken] Got a notice by the door on the third floor, Double-folded paper. Just my number. Nothing more. Sixth of the month, the mercy clock starts, Fourteen squares till the lock forgets my name. [Descending single-note motif, quarter-note pulse, ringing drone between notes] I leave it in the hallway, let the warning breathe. The refrigerator light makes a liar out of me. One cold shelf and a spoon from the jar, Tell myself Thursday isn't very far. [Pre-Chorus] [Brushed drums enter, vocal tightens] Hunger stays quiet when it's only mine. I can make next to nothing last a little while. [Chorus] [Full band, layered chiming guitars, aching vocals] I save the better groceries for Thursday night, The grapes without bruises, the cereal they like. I live on peanut butter and four hours a night, The clock takes interest every time I close my eyes. Let it count me down, let it wear me thin, Three voices hit the stairwell, the whole world walks in. For a few loud days, I remember what it's for, A pile of shoes inside the third-floor door. [Verse 2] [Pull back, dry resigned vocals] September fourth, my badge dies at five-oh-three, Six years disappear behind "business needs." Every road north has an open door and key, But three twin beds pull harder than gravity. [Descending single-note motif returns, ringing drone between notes] I rewrite my rez-oo-may till it looks counterfeit, Every inbox says "received." Nothing comes after it. A hundred versions of the life I've lived, Each one reads like the life I thought I'd live. [Pre-Chorus] [Guitars swelling, drums pushing] Four hours of sleep, three miles before dawn, I run like my heart's the one that did me wrong. Caffeine and a capsule before I brush my teeth, Some mornings momentum's my only luxury. [Chorus] [Heavier, grit in the vocal] I save the better groceries for Thursday night, The grapes without bruises, the cereal they like. I live on peanut butter and four hours a night, The clock takes interest every time I close my eyes. Let it count me down, let it wear me thin, Three voices hit the stairwell, the whole world walks in. For a few loud days, I remember what it's for, A pile of shoes inside the third-floor door. [Verse 3] [Stripped back, echoing guitar only, whispered vocals] I hide the laundry in the walk-in closet, Shut the door, try not to think about it. Wipe the granite with the sleeve of my shirt, Make a bad week look like it didn't hurt. She asks, "Are you always this tired?" I reach for the line I've used before: [Spoken word, deadpan] Only when I'm awake. [Drums creep back in] She laughs. I let the joke do the work. She asks what I'm looking for; I look at the clock, Like time ever answers for the trouble it caused. A calendar still hung over by the front door Still open to December, twenty twenty-four. [Vocal thinning out] Empty squares get louder at night. I count them down till Thursday arrives. [Bridge] [Band drops out completely, fragile whisper vocals, aching vulnerability] I don't need rescuing. I don't need escape. I just need somebody who can look at all of this... [Voice breaking, overlapping vocal layers, raw emotional breakdown] And never make me feel (never make me feel) like loving me (like loving me) was a fucking mistake! [Guitar Solo] [High register singing lead guitar, soaring emotional peak] [Volume swells, weeping bends, cascading analog delay repeats] [Drums driving a spectacular, explosive buildup] [Final Chorus] [Maximum energy, raw cracked vocals, driving rhythm] I save the better groceries for Thursday night, The grapes without bruises, the cereal they like. I live on peanut butter and four hours a night, I owe every hour, but this weekend is mine. Let it count me down, let it wear me thin, Three voices hit the stairwell, the whole world walks in. For a few loud days, I remember what it's for, A pile of shoes inside the third-floor door. [Outro] [Decay back to the opening single-note descending motif] Monday morning, the stairwell swallows them again, The rooms tell the truth when the noise finally ends. [Vocals overlapping and fading] Leave the spilled cereal where it lies, (where it lies) Beautiful torment in plain disguise. Pizza crust sitting on a plate. (on a plate) I'll clean it up before somebody comes for a date. Tonight, let the evidence stay, (let it stay) Proof this place was alive for a few good days. [Guitar slowing to single notes] Another piece of lifespan carving away. [Fade to silence]
