Verse 1 Two names the border has to honor. Two stamps a general signed before he became a rumor. They cannot be rescinded. They can only be stolen, hidden, begged for, pressed into a coat like a second heartbeat. Verse 2 Victor needs the sky. The work needs Victor. I need— I do not finish that sentence in rooms with waiters. Chorus Letters of transit, worth more than a life and less than a night. Letters of transit, the only honest currency left in a city of favors. I did not come for a new country. I came to move the old one out of the doorway. Verse 3 A thief brought them in like a confession. Rick kept them the way he keeps everything: out of sight, in the piano, under a song he forbade. Bridge Paper is lighter than a person. That is why governments prefer it. That is why I stood in front of him and asked for two names I was not sure I still deserved. Chorus 2 / out Two names on paper. One plane. One woman who has already learned how to leave a table without making a sound.
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