[Intro: radio click, fog machine hiss] Radio check Count off [Hook: whispered, last line barked] Staff only, staff only, back of the mill Twelve of us on payroll, and the thirteenth standin' still Every room got a body and a radio and a name Room nine ain't got nobody. Hear it screamin' all the same [Verse 1: tense, matter-of-fact, live drums] Eighth October in the butcher's apron, room seven by the hooks I know every scream by pitch and every shortcut in the nooks Old textile mill on the county road, burned in seventy-one Took the whole third floor and the night crew, every one Now they rent the bottom two and call the scorch marks a set Kids pay twenty for the fear, I make fourteen and sweat Rules in the trailer: never touch 'em, never break the script Never climb the back stairs where the red bulb buzzes and dips I run the head count. I'm the clipboard and the call Twelve names on the sheet, twelve masks off the wall [Flow switch: triple-time sprint through the back hall] Through the black curtain, past the breaker, past the fuse box, cut the plywood to the left, hit my mark, drag the cleaver down the pipe Hear 'em scatter, hear 'em laugh it off, I'm back behind the curtain 'fore the strobe comes back, a ghost on the clock, and I'm right on time every night Radio crackle: "Seven, you're up." Copy "Nine, you're up." Nine? Who the fuck works nine? [Hook] Staff only, staff only, back of the mill Twelve of us on payroll, and the thirteenth standin' still Every room got a body and a radio and a name Room nine ain't got nobody. Hear it screamin' all the same [Verse 2: brass stabs, drums tighten] Little girl in the line, maybe nine, in a crown Tugged my apron, pointed past me: "Who's the tall one with no sound?" I said, "Baby, that's the fog." She said, "Fog don't wave" Then her daddy picked her up and walked her out the other way Fifty-dollar bonus if you drop a grown man to the floor Three grown men went down tonight. Bonus ain't mine. Who's it for? Boss on the radio: "Quit playin' on the channel. Do the count" So I count it. Thirteen. Count again. Same amount [Beat Switch: he opens the STAFF ONLY door, drums sink into half-time sludge, distorted bass, fog hiss swells] Red bulb buzzin' on a door I told twelve people not to touch STAFF ONLY in a stencil, and the paint ain't flakin' much [Flow switch: whispered, half-time] Third floor smellin' like a fire that never left Rows of sewin' machines with the thread pulled tight like a breath Time clock on the wall and a rack of cards burnt black Every card punched in at ten. Not a single one punched back That's when it hit me in the soot with my clipboard and my light I ain't the one runnin' the count in this building tonight Twelve on my sheet, a hundred on theirs, and somebody's wrong To them, I'm the thirteenth. I been the thirteenth all along [Final Hook: whispered with no drums, then the whole band slams on the last line] Staff only, staff only, back of the mill Hundred on the payroll and the night crew's workin' still Every room got a body and a time card and a name Staff only. That means them. We the ones that's playin' games [Outro: strobe stutter, the fog machine dies, one time clock punch]
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