[intro] [Postlude] [Verse] The rain limps across the street like a one-eyed priest looking for a lost sermon. It’s been falling for years, but no one’s had the courage to tell it to stop. [verse] In the diner, a woman with teeth like winter sunlight stirs her soup with a comb. [verse] Mmmhhh.... The jukebox wheezes out a love song that died on the operating table, while a boy in a funeral suit counts his knuckles for luck. [Interlude] [Drama] [Verse] Your voice arrives smelling of cold gin and broken wallpaper. You say you’ve kept your soul pickled in a jar of hairpins, waiting for the day someone needs spare parts. [Drop] [Bridge] Out in the alley, a dog wearing a wedding veil is barking at a wheelbarrow of dead umbrellas. Somebody’s been selling rainwater in old perfume bottles, and the crowd swears it tastes just like the truth. [Outro] The streetlamps are trembling again. Not from the wind— but because they’ve seen what’s coming. [End]
