[Cold open: dry raspy male vocal; muted guitar] You’ve got everything but gone. [Low three-note guitar riff; tight drums and warm bass enter] [Verse 1: conversational; slight smile hiding the hurt] First it was your charger, Then your winter coat. Then the book you never finished— I kept the page you folded. I packed it all last Sunday, Left the bag beside the stairs. You came round for twenty minutes. Your coat’s still on my chair. [Pre-chorus: bass rises; guitar chords open] Now you’re turning that old key Round your finger like a ring. You say, “There’s nothing left here.” I almost say, “There’s me.” [Chorus: strong melodic lift; pause after here] If you’re leaving, leave it here, That little silver souvenir. You don’t need another reason To come back and disappear. Put it down beside your cup. Let me stop leaving room for us. If you’re leaving, leave it here— Don’t take a way back with you. [Post-chorus: guitar answers the vocal] Leave it here. Leave it here. Don’t take a way back with you. [Instrumental: eight bars; low guitar riff develops] [Dry handclaps; bass adds a short answering phrase] [Verse 2: more rhythmic, increasingly honest] You spot a second coffee cup, Your fingers stop mid-turn. I say, “My brother came around.” You smile down at your shirt. I hate how much I needed That little bit of proof. You ask me if the kettle works. I fill it up for you. [Pre-chorus: drums thin; close vocal] I keep saying you won’t let go, Like I don’t do my part. You keep the key inside your coat. I keep a place to park. [Chorus: fuller drums; restrained self-harmonies] If you’re leaving, leave it here, That little silver souvenir. You don’t need another reason To come back and disappear. Put it down beside your cup. Let me stop leaving room for us. If you’re leaving, leave it here— Don’t take a way back with you. [Bridge: drums stop; trembling guitar and exposed voice] You ask me, “Do you want me gone?” I say, “I want you back. But you’re not asking me for that.” [Brief instrumental breath] You set it down between us. Such a little sound. I hear the kettle boiling. Neither one of us turns round. [One-beat silence; guitar pickup] [Final chorus: same melodic shape; raw, controlled release] If you’re leaving, leave it here, That little silver souvenir. We don’t need another evening That’ll cost another year. Put it down beside your cup. I won’t call you back for stuff. If you’re leaving, leave it here— Don’t take a way back with you. [Final instrumental: eight bars; riff moves up an octave] [Open cymbals; no additional vocal runs] [Outro: instruments fall away; close, almost spoken] Your cup is by the kettle. I wash it with my own.
