[Intro — room tone, breath, the nine notes played plainly on a keyboard piano patch, one wrong, kept going] Locked the door once. Walked to the car. Kept walking. [Verse 1 — functions return unevenly] Groceries make four meals now, maybe five. The plant's got one new leaf and three it lost. Opened half the mail. The other half can wait— Waiting's different when you chose it. I sleep. Not as a reward. Just because it's night. The phone still holds some names I don't press. The coat went back. I did that in March. The keys have a bowl. The bowl's on a table. I built the table. No glue. Nobody's impressed. That's fair. [Chorus — communal, unhurried, plain] All nine at the table, Nobody sits at the head. Everybody gets a chair and a say, Nobody gets the whole day. All nine at the table, Nobody sits at the head. Pass the bread. Pass the salt. Nobody gets to be all of me. [Verse 2 — the nine are embodied; the meal keeps moving] The fast one draws a city on a napkin. I miss the sun. I say it. Nobody objects. I miss how every lock once showed its hinge. For one honest second, I set down the keys Closer to him than to me. Nobody moves them. The bread arrives. The warm one tears the loaf and passes both halves. There are more hands than halves. We tear them again. The alarm looks once toward the door. I look too. We leave it locked once. The teeth say: that line was crossed. I say yes. The bread keeps moving. The court unfolds a page beside my plate. The salt tips over. Half the case goes white. Nobody rushes to save it. The flat one puts both hands on the wood and asks for night, Then turns the radio down. Confetti taps two rhythms under the wood. I hear them both. I keep eating. And Mostly Fine says: sometimes you carry it. Sometimes. Not as the house rule. [Chorus] All nine at the table, Nobody sits at the head. Everybody gets a chair and a say, Nobody gets the whole day. All nine at the table, Nobody sits at the head. Pass the bread. Pass the salt. Nobody gets to be all of me. [Bridge — the antagonist, all voices together, almost kind] "This is not a mood. This is who you really are." [Lead, alone — not a rebuttal, a seating chart] That's what every one of you said. Nine times. Same sentence. Different weather. I believed it every time. I'm not always fine. Carrying isn't living. I don't have to sell you otherwise. I don't promise forever. I promise this afternoon. [Final Chorus — earlier voices as harmony, none louder than the lead] All nine at the table, Nobody sits at the head. Everybody gets a chair and a say, Nobody gets the whole day. All nine at the table, Nobody sits at the head. Pass the bread. Pass the salt. Nobody gets to be all of me. [Outro — sparse, keyboard, room tone] The name I never deleted is still there. I look at it. Nothing rises. I don't need it to. I sit at the keyboard I bought at four in the morning And play the nine notes wrong— And keep going. [Ending A — spoken, same “you” as Track 01] “You good?” “Not always.” [Keyboard — cheap slightly plastic piano patch: C D E G, A held, G F E D. Leave the final D hanging. Two seconds of room tone. Stop.]
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