(Intro) (A heavy, upright bass line limps forward, dragging its feet. The piano strikes a low, bruised chord—a C-minor with a cracked soul. The brushed snare works the skin like someone trying to wipe a stain off a mirror.) (Verse 1) They’re selling salvation at the corner bodega Between the day-old bread and the cut-rate gin The preacher’s in the back room playing three-card monte Counting up the change of every mortal sin. I seen a statue weep in the park on 5th Street But it was only the acid rain eating at the stone And the pigeons are the only ones who know the truth About the kingdom that we’ve built on a hollow bone. (Chorus) Oh, the ledger is lopsided, the ink’s run dry We’re bargaining with mercy under a charcoal sky Put your pride in the furnace, let the metal turn black There’s no heavy lifting, just a knife in the back Yeah, the saints are all missing and the sinners are cold And we’re just trading iron for a handful of gold. (Verse 2) Big Al’s got a smile like a rusted bear trap He’s fixing the traffic lights to turn green for his debts He’s keeping the city in a state of suspended collapse Buying up the hope that the neighborhood forgets. And the girl at the window, she’s watching the water Trying to wash her name off of a wanted sign She says the only thing that’s honest in this zip code Is the way the darkness tastes when you drink it like wine. (Chorus) Oh, the ledger is lopsided, the ink’s run dry We’re bargaining with mercy under a charcoal sky Put your pride in the furnace, let the metal turn black There’s no heavy lifting, just a knife in the back Yeah, the saints are all missing and the sinners are cold And we’re just trading iron for a handful of gold. (Verse 3) The morning’s a rumor that nobody believes in We’re just shivering together in the belly of the beast I’m carving my initials into a payphone booth Waiting for the famine, waiting for the feast. But the feast is just garbage, and the famine is permanent And the ledger is closed, even if the math is wrong We’re all just footnotes in a city that’s forgotten The name of the singer and the words to the song. (Chorus) Oh, the ledger is lopsided, the ink’s run dry We’re bargaining with mercy under a charcoal sky Put your pride in the furnace, let the metal turn black There’s no heavy lifting, just a knife in the back Yeah, the saints are all missing and the sinners are cold And we’re just trading iron for a handful of gold. (Outro) (The piano plays a series of descending, dissonant notes that don’t quite resolve. The bass pulls one final, guttural string. The tape hiss swells to fill the silence.) Closed out. Every tab. Every soul. Put it on my account. Just keep the change. Yeah. Keep the change. (Final chord rings out into the sound of a distant, dying siren.)
