[INTRO | 8 bars | full-time | drums sparse, vinyl crackle, neon pad] Halogen humming on asphalt, vapor lifts from the sump. Fluorescents 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.” [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.
