There’s a room above Murphy’s… Where promises go to sleep. I saw him watching like he owned Every soul inside that bar, Silver smile and devil’s hands, Luck shining like a star. Men like him don’t take...they claim, They don’t ask...they choose… So I put on my sweetest voice And gave him what he likes to use. I laughed a little lighter, Let my fingers brush his sleeve, Let him think he’d finally found Something he could keep. He said, “Rosie, you’re a vision…” I said, “Buy another round…” And every word I handed him Was poison dressed in sound. Now Vale slept up in room thirteen, Where the shadows lean in close, Where a man can lose his fortune… Or the thing he values most. You can have my time, my smile, Every lie you think is true… But nothing in that room upstairs Ever belonged to you. I poured his drink with steady hands, Just a little more each time, Laudanum beneath the burn Of whiskey, salt, and lime. He never tasted the death within, Just warmth behind his grin… Funny how the deadliest things Don’t feel like deadly sins. He spoke of towns he’d taken clean, Of men he’d left behind, Of every game he’d ever won With that crooked hand of his. I leaned in close and played along, Let him think I was impressed… While counting out the seconds Till the weight came to his chest. Now Vale slept up in room thirteen, Where the lamp burns soft and low, Where the truth gets slow and heavy And the body starts to go cold. You can tell me all your stories, Every sin you never knew… But nothing in that room upstairs Was EVER! meant for you. He said, “Rosie… something’s wrong…” I said, “Just lie back down…” His silver smile went slack and pale, His kingship lost its crown. One hand reached out to steady air, One tried to hold the line… But even devils fold their cards When death begins to climb. I watched him fade in lamplight gold, No gunshot, no display, Just breath turning thin and slow Then slipping clean away. No rage, no shout, no final stand, No clever trick or tale… Just silence where there once had been A man called Lucky Vale. I fixed my dress, I checked the hall, The night rolled on below… In Murphy’s bar the music played Like nothing dared to know. Up in quiet Room Thirteen, Where the wicked come to rest, Where a woman learns to finish things A bullet can’t address. He thought he held the winning hand, Like men so often do… But death don’t bluff, and love don’t heal What’s rotten through and through. There’s a room above Murphy’s… And sometimes late at night… A glass still sits beside the bed… Filled halfway… In the light.
