[Intro] New day, same mess— pour me the lesson. [Verse 1] Bombed that gig, mic died, crowd petty as hell, Smiled through teeth like, “yeah—this shit’ll sell.” Rent past due, inbox cold as a morgue, I stapled my pride to the barroom board. Make a toast to the wrong I wore, Tattoo my fails like a running score. If grace is real, she drinks like me— spills, swears, tips, then sets me free. [Pre-Chorus] Call it failure? Babe, that’s tuition. Every bruise funds my ambition. Write it down in lipstick, black: “I take the L—and run it back.” [Chorus] Fuck perfect—pour it up, I’m thirsty. String my L’s like pearls, swing ’em dirty. I fall on beat, then I swing right back; tip the band—watch me run it back. Fuck perfect—raise a glass, no flinch. Every crack is a goddamn inch. If the track goes black, I fade to jazz, then kick back in—yeah, I run it back. [Verse 2] Half-stitched soul with the seams on show, I tossed this heart onstage—let it bruise, then grow. I choke, I cuss, I miss my cue— then rhyme the miss till it sounds brand-new. Bad news, good shoes, ripped fishnets grace, I waltz with doubt, step on her face. Ain’t porcelain—pressure-made stone, drop me twice, I still pour home. [Pre-Chorus] Call it failing? I say fact-finding, blood in the ink, silver in the lining. Write it clean on a napkin stack: “I take the L—and run it back.” [Chorus] Fuck perfect—pour it up, I’m thirsty. String my L’s like pearls, swing ’em dirty. I fall on beat, then I swing right back; tip the band—watch me run it back. Fuck perfect—raise a glass, no flinch. Every crack is a goddamn inch. If the track goes black, I fade to jazz, then kick back in—yeah, I run it back. [Bridge] I don’t chase perfect—I chase proof, reps in the rain, truth in the booth. If the door won’t open, learn the hinge, change the key, let the chorus binge. Laugh at the flop, kiss the scar, I drink my doubts from a crystal jar. Reverse explosion—pieces fly, then race back home—yeah, so do I. [Break / Call & Response] Band: Run it back! Vox: Count me in. Band: Run it back! Vox: Lose to win. Band: Run it back! Vox: On the one. Band: Run it back! Vox: ’Til it’s done. [Final Chorus] Fuck perfect—pour it up, I’m thirsty. String my L’s like pearls, swing ’em dirty. I fall on beat, then I swing right back; tip the band—watch me run it back. Fuck perfect—ink the lesson, fact: sign my name, fade to black. Lights back up—hit that sax— and one more time—yeah, I run it back. [Outro] Scar as jewelry, failure as fuel. Class dismissed—same bar, same stool.
