[Intro] [low horns, upright bass walks] White walls, dry wine, wrong shoes— we hang our feelings like reviews. [Verse 1] You love me like a gallery light, all hush and varnish, gold-on-white. I’m more a back-alley mural at two, dripping my name down the bricks to you. You straighten my edges with a jealous hand, I smudge your rules like wet paint, man. The label says “Do Not Touch”—we do, leave fingerprints the docents can’t undo. [Pre-Chorus] You bring a frame; I bring the spill, you bring restraint; I bring the thrill. We pose like saints till the colors tilt— then out comes the turpentine guilt. [Chorus] We’re pentimento, baby—painted over, shining through, you hang a frame around me, but my colors bleed to you. “Handle with care” on the label (we never do), old truth living in something new. We’re pentimento—ghosts in the hue, what we tried to bury keeps breaking through. [Verse 2] We price our love like an auctioned piece, reserve not met, but we never cease. I keep the provenance under my skin, every touch a signature you sign again. You call me “study,” I call you “sketch,” we’re chiaroscuro when the nights get wretch’d. Your shade makes my honey tones blaze— we’re bruised Rembrandts in the smoky haze. [Pre-Chorus] Cotton swab apologies, slow reveal, colors come back when we kneel. But some nights the solvent strips too far— we paint new hearts on the same old scar. [Chorus] We’re pentimento, baby—painted over, shining through, you hang a frame around me, but my colors bleed to you. “Handle with care” on the label (we never do), old truth living in something new. We’re pentimento—ghosts in the hue, what we tried to bury keeps breaking through. [Bridge] Triptych of us: fight, break, mend— three little panels that never end. Craquelure laughter, hairline grief, we gold-leaf cracks for our own relief. Negative space where the shouting was, now just a breath, a tender pause. Even the nail in the plaster knows— we’re a small-town masterpiece that grows. [Break – call & response, horns answer] Lead: Hang me crooked, love, I’ll lean to you— Horns: (Le-ean to you) Lead: Paint runs wild, but it still rings true— Horns: (Still rings true) [Final Chorus] We’re pentimento, darling—painted over, shining through, wrong side of perfect, right side of you. “Handle with care” on the label (we never do), old truth humming in something new. We’re pentimento—yes, it’s our view: every time we start again… we show the under-color, too. [Outro] [brush on canvas, soft sax] Leave the lights low; let the pigment set— kiss me like a secret you can’t forget.
