[Intro – slow brushed drums, upright bass, distant muted trumpet, vinyl crackle] [Female vocal – breathy, intimate, almost conversational] They say the club closes at three, But somebody always stays. One glass waits beneath the lamp, One chair is never raised. [Verse 1 – smoky jazz piano, brushed snare, walking bass] She sits where the curtains hide, With a cigarette untouched. Black gloves folded in her lap, Her smile is just a little too much. The bartender won't meet her eyes, The piano player knows her name. But every time he asks her why, She laughs and changes the frame. [Pre-Chorus – trumpet enters softly, bass drops lower] And every night at half past two, She turns her face toward the door. Like she's waiting for someone Who isn't alive anymore. [Chorus – sultry noir vocal, fuller jazz arrangement] Oh, darling, don't sit beside her, Don't ask what happened last year. She'll tell you everything you wanted, Then disappear when you get near. Oh, darling, don't follow her footsteps, Don't let her call you sweet. Some women leave a perfume behind, She leaves an empty seat. [Verse 2 – piano becomes more dissonant, bass sparse] Last winter, a man came looking, Wearing rain across his coat. He whispered something in her ear, She smiled and watched him choke. No struggle. No warning. No blood upon the floor. Just an empty chair by morning, And her dress behind the door. [Instrumental Break – eerie piano chords, muted trumpet answering, brushes gradually becoming irregular] [Female spoken vocal – extremely close-mic, calm] You shouldn't have come tonight. [Pause] But since you're here... [soft laugh] ...you might as well stay. [Bridge – tempo slightly slower, bass nearly disappears] There's a room beneath the staircase, Where nobody goes alone. The walls remember every secret, And the ceiling knows your name. If you hear somebody knocking, Don't be foolish. Don't reply. Because sometimes what's behind the door Is exactly what it sounds like. [Chorus – haunting, restrained, layered female harmonies] Oh, darling, don't sit beside her, Don't look too long into her eyes. She'll make you feel like you've known her Since before you were alive. Oh, darling, don't follow her footsteps, Don't let her take your hand. Some doors open into darkness, Some lead somewhere worse than that. [Outro – piano and upright bass only, trumpet fading in the distance] The club closes at three. The chairs go on the tables. The bartender locks the door. And somehow... [whispered] ...she's still sitting at table nine. [Single piano note] [Silence]
