[Intro: Spoken-word poet male MC, over the low strings] Ten o'clock. Thumb under the edge. Listen. Call it. [Verse 1: Spoken-word poet MC, measured spoken-word poet cadence over huge driving drums, strings low] Day one I'm shakin' like a screen door in the wind Marcus puts a silver dollar in my hand and grins Says "Every night at ten o'clock, you give the thing a flip Heads, you stay in, and tails, you call me 'fore you take a sip Don't argue with the dollar and don't bargain with the dark And don't you ever turn it over, just believe it, that's the start" So I set it on the counter where the bottle used to stand And at ten o'clock that Monday I could barely lift my hand Thumb beneath the edge of it, it spun up through the light Came down in my palm on heads, and I stayed in that night [Hook: Spoken-word poet MC, rapped hard over the full strings and drums] Every night at ten I flip it, call it in the air Heads, I stay inside, and tails, I call him from the chair Three hundred sixty-five, it came up heads, I swear Call it luck, call it God, I call it a year [Verse 2: Spoken-word poet MC, the cadence tightens into rap, strings climbing] Night fifty, they cut my hours, and I flip it in the truck Heads. Night ninety, cousin's wedding with an open bar, good luck Heads. Two hundred, Christmas Eve, and nobody calls Heads. I'm flippin' it so hard it's ringin' off the walls Started thinkin' somebody upstairs was keepin' score Started thinkin' I'm the luckiest drunk who ever walked out the door Listen, some nights I wanted tails, I'll tell you true Wanted a reason to call him, or a reason not to But it never once came up tails, not in rain and not in snow And I hated that old dollar for the things it seemed to know [Hook: Spoken-word poet MC, the strings and drums at full size under every line] Every night at ten I flip it, call it in the air Heads, I stay inside, and tails, I call him from the chair Three hundred sixty-five, it came up heads, I swear Call it luck, call it God, I call it a year [Verse 3: Spoken-word poet MC, two-headed reveal, the strings open full as he turns it over] Tuesday, folding chairs, they call my name up for the year I walk up in a clean shirt and I can barely hear Marcus stands and says "Before you get your chip, my man Give me back my dollar," and he's holdin' out his hand So I turn it over, first time in three hundred sixty-five And the back side's heads too, and I'm standin' there alive Two faces and no tails, it was never up to chance He called it for me every night until I learned to stand Now there's a new kid in the back, he's shakin' like a door And I put the dollar in his hand, and I don't say what for [Final Hook: Spoken-word poet MC, everything in, strings and drums at full size] Every night at ten I flip it, call it in the air Heads, I stay inside, and tails, I call him from the chair Three hundred sixty-five, it came up heads, I swear Call it luck, call it God, I call it a year [End]
