I dragged my shadow through the door again Same cracked stool, same cigarette stain The neon buzzes like it’s tired too Pour me something stronger than the truth I’ve been counting exits in my head One’s the door, one’s the riverbed One’s the bottle if it’s kind tonight Tell me, man… which one feels right? Hey bartender, you ever think it ends? Not the night – the whole damn thing, my friend I’m not asking for a miracle or grace Just tell me if the leaving leaves a trace He wipes the bar, doesn’t meet my eyes Says “Kid, I’ve heard that question a thousand times” Pours me whiskey, leaves the bottle near Quiet like he’s already said goodbye here Clock ticks funeral-march slow Every breath feels borrowed, every no feels no I keep waiting for the part where it gets light But the dark just settles deeper every night Hey bartender… you still here tomorrow? Or do I wake up somewhere I can’t follow? He just shrugs and turns the open sign around “Stay another drink. We’ll figure it out.” Another drink… Yeah… Maybe one more round.
