Place Card

[Instrumental Intro] (dry asymmetric drums, deep elastic sub, muted woody motif, cold synth stabs, no vocals / no adlibs) [Verse 1] At the coat check They give me forty-three Black card Silver number Upstairs Everything already knows Where it belongs Six glasses per table Forks in a straight line My name Printed in small black letters Seat twelve Between a man Explaining Bordeaux And somebody Still answering emails I stand there For maybe three seconds Then pick up the card [Pre-Chorus] Nobody stops me That’s the funny part I move it Four places down Near the window Put my bag On the chair Sit [Chorus] Place card My name still reads the same Different glass Different view Nothing broke Nobody moved Place card Four seats changed That’s all it took If you wanted me Exactly where you put me You should have said so [Instrumental Break] (woody low-register plucks, elastic sub, clipped broken-club percussion) [Verse 2] The waiter notices Looks at the card Then at the room He adjusts one knife Leaves everything else Good choice Across from me A woman takes off her shoes Under the table Nobody sees I do Dessert arrives Before the speech ends Chocolate Something with pear The man from seat twelve Is still talking Bordeaux To somebody else now He seems fine [Pre-Chorus] Nobody stops me Nobody asks The printed plan Survives the night Without me Following it [Chorus] Place card My name still reads the same Different glass Different view Nothing broke Nobody moved Place card Four seats changed That’s all it took If you wanted me Exactly where you put me You should have said so [Bridge] (drums strip to sub, voice close and dry) At the end They clear the tables Card by card Mine disappears With the crumbs Forty-three Is still in my pocket I forgot To give it back [Instrumental] (groove returns heavier, cold stabs widen, woody motif becomes more syncopated) [Final Chorus] Place card My name still reads the same Window open City below Nobody cared Where I chose to go Place card Four seats changed Nothing more Funny how a room Can look so organised Until somebody Moves one thing [Outro] (dry sub pulse, one muted wooden hit, short delayed synth chord)