[INTRO | 8 bars | full-time | drums sparse, vinyl crackle, neon pad] Liquid humming on asphalt, vapor lifts from the sump. LEDs fold the midnight, my breath tastes like rust. [VERSE 1 | 16 bars | funky syncopation | full-time] Collapsed between the stripes—hospital lot, terrazzo dreams. Vodka turned me paper, throat a porous seam. You flew from humid runways, checked a winter anorak, Airport wrists still creased; you didn’t look back. Wheelchair squeaks like ductwork when the building sleeps, Telemetry of my pulse — cheap drums, shallow beeps. You parked me under signage where the arrows bloom, Counted stars in drop-ceiling’s porcelain noon. I said I’m fine; my mouth said static—liar’s snow, You pressed my knuckles quiet like the radio low. The doors kept breathing; I was dry as styrofoam, You steered me through the halogen—called it home. [PRE / CLIMB | 8 bars | jazzy kit | halftime] Waiting room blue, and your thumb — counter-clicks, One… two… three… the seconds stick. Forty-nine, fifty… I whisper “cease,” Fifty-one rubs till my tremors ease. [HOOK — “Anesthesia Honey” | 16 bars | breakbeat | perceived double-time hats] Anesthesia honey, saline in the vine, Fluorescents pour their Sundays through a plastic sky. Hanging from a lattice of the IV line, You hold me by the numbers till the fever dries. Anesthesia honey, three bags climb, Gravity drips the minutes I could never buy. Somewhere I was thankful in a crooked rhyme— A breath, a nod, a quiet “I.” [POST / TURN | 1 bar | breath | 2/4] (air: IV clamp click) [VERSE 2 | 16 bars | hybrid | full-time → hats brighten] Basement cave—my vinyl couch is patio bones, Bunkbed built for daughters while the cartoon drones. Gay couple upstairs sets plants like stained-glass tones, The new friend from Iraq texts prayers on my phone. Old lady, Swiss maps, drove the metro lines, Moves like early morning, leaves like borrowed time. I twist a cap at midnight—bad old satellite, Spin into the sump where the echoes bite. Thankful then returning to the same old key, A bottle as a doorway I keep losing me. Screensavers of futures I don’t dare to touch, Guilt like ductwork rattling, always too much. [BRIDGE | 8 bars | pad-heavy | halftime] If grace is measured softly, it was in your sleeve, In wheel squeaks over asphalt when I couldn’t leave. The drip keeps time; the drip forgives, The drip names every hour and lets it live. [FINAL HOOK — “Anesthesia Honey” | 16 bars | 4-on-the-floor | full-time, open hats] Anesthesia honey, saline in the vine, Fluorescents fold the night into a gentler sign. Hanging from a lattice of the IV line, You hold me by the numbers till the drought resigns. Anesthesia honey, count and breathe, Counter-clicks still ticking in my winter sleeve— Forty-nine, fifty… mercy’s heat— Fifty-one rubs, and I find my feet. [OUTRO | 8 bars | ride then mute | field-recorded elevator ding] Neon to navy; wheels to wings. A hush; a click. The city sings.
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