VICTOR (Water On The Rocks) - Prologue

​Ice in the low ball... ​Crushed ice like a snowball, water flows from my soda gun Chargin' him for Gray Goose, but never pour him none "Keep 'em coming, Sis!" he yells all day til last call One of my regulars, but not like the rest, not at all He's here when I open, he's here when I close Get's me to my car safe, follows me til I turn on my road Always smiling, always stumblin', always wearin' that stupid grin But something weighs different, somethin' is off about him ​His eyes never lose focus and his hands never shake Says he was an oil man, now takin' a permanent break I learned fast if I asked, my tips dipped by ten times So questions and answers just don’t exist A typical bar fly with an atypical twist ​He may be drunk! He may be stumblin' around! Buying up the rounds and winning the crowd! Thirty-two and sittin' way too pretty! But why in a dive bar that's runnin' on empty?! Yeah, pay no attention to the man holding up a bar stool. That's just Victor... and we are the fools. ​A guy in a suit walks in off the street Skirts the pool table, looking discreet Drops a folded napkin right next to his plate Victor doesn't blink, doesn't hesitate Slips it in his pocket as he starts tellin' jokes Then Coughs like he's dying from cigarette smoke I wipe down the bar, move my tip jar and just play along I'll keep pouring water until I figure out what's going on ​Last call, lights on, I'm lockin' the front door Sweepin' up ten thousand bottle caps scattered on the floor I glance out a propped open back door into the alley out back Expectin' him to keep stumblin', but instead he grabs a sack That drunk act drops and he becomes quick on his feet He pulls his shoulders back, like he owns these streets A blacked out Lincoln rolls up slow in the dark And my favorite bar fly suddenly looks like a shark ​He may be drunk! He may be stumblin' around! Buying up the rounds and winning the crowd! Thirty-two and sittin' way too pretty! But why in a dive bar that's runnin' on empty?! Yeah, pay no attention to the man holding up a bar stool. That's just Victor... and we are the fools. ​I turn off the sign, I count out the till. The bar is quiet, the room is dead still. I pour myself a real grey goose on ice. Wondering if knowing this secret comes with a price. Water on the rocks... Water on the rocks... Keep 'em coming, Victor. But I ain't nobody's fool.