Verse 1 She walks in like a rerun of sin, Lipstick smeared and a wink too thin Lights a smoke with hands that shake Leans on the jukebox like it might break She orders gin, not water, not wine Laughs too loud to make it feel fine Her heels clack like gunshots down the hall Every night she rises, every morning she falls Verse 2 June and I, boots on the bar rail Watching her script like a cautionary tale She told some guy, “Don’t touch unless you mean it” Told the mirror, “God, I miss feeling decent” Her stories stained the bathroom tiles Lipstick notes in broken vials Said she used to dream of Paris, Now just dreams of sleep that’s quiet Pre-Chorus And maybe we were cruel To romanticize her wreck But she danced like revenge In a hand-me-down dress Chorus She was Sunday’s regret in Saturday’s clothes Preaching in perfume, only heaven knows What she gave, what she lost, who she burned just to feel Backseat gospel, made her mercy a deal Verse 3 Last call hit and she disappeared Left behind her coat and fear June said, “That’s us in ten years’ time” I said, “Not if we leave before the lights start to shine” But I still wear that shade of red And I still hear the things she said Final Chorus She was Sunday’s regret in Saturday’s clothes Preaching in perfume, only heaven knows She taught us how to vanish, how to lie with appeal Backseat gospel, faith spun on a wheel
