Everyone Stopped Talking

[Verse 1 — casual deep baritone, clean guitar and relaxed bass groove] Everybody stopped talking when I walked through the door. Not all at once. Close enough. Someone laughed a second before. You moved your glass toward your body. I watched your fingers slide. You asked me how my day was. You didn't look me in the eye. That's fine. People look away. People move their drinks. People don't rehearse being normal. I don't think. [Instrumental — clean guitar repeats one small phrase one time too many] [Verse 2 — bass begins answering the ends of vocal lines] There were four chairs at the table. Someone pulled away the fifth. You said, "We didn't know you were coming." Something underneath that slipped. He checked his phone. You watched him. He put it facedown slow. Nobody said a fucking thing. That's how I fucking know. Know what? Nothing. I don't know. That's the problem with a room. Once you think there's something in it, everything becomes the proof. [Pre-Chorus — drums begin landing slightly behind the vocal] Maybe you were talking weather. Maybe somebody told a joke. Maybe I walked into nothing and somehow nothing fucking spoke. [Chorus — huge melodic RDS chorus, beautiful rather than angry] EVERYBODY STOPPED TALKING WHEN I WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR. I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WERE SAYING. I KNOW YOU'RE NOT SAYING IT ANYMORE. Tell me nothing happened. Tell me I'm imagining more. Why does everybody stop talking when I walk through the door? [Instrumental — low guitar pattern begins underneath the original clean figure] [Verse 3 — shorter phrases, increasingly fractured] Bathroom. Hallway. Two voices through the wall. Couldn't make out either sentence. Heard my name. Maybe not. That's all. The faucet came on quickly. Then somebody cleared their throat. I stood there with my hands wet trying not to fucking know. Back at the table, you smiled too wide. He smiled too. Not at me. At something somewhere to my right that apparently I couldn't see. [Heavy Turn — abrupt low-tuned riff, asymmetric meter] [Bridge — vocal restrained while instruments become increasingly hostile] There's something underneath the table. Nobody looks below. There's something sitting in my chair every time I fucking go. There's a sentence in your mouth. There's another in your eyes. There's a version of me in this room that everybody knows but I— don't. Don't. Don't. Don't tell me. Tell me. No. [Instrumental Collapse — drums and guitars interlock like an argument; bass continues the original melody underneath] [Quiet Section — almost whispered baritone] I tried an experiment. I went outside. Counted eight. Came back inside. You were all laughing. Then you weren't. Eight seconds. That's all it took. Eight seconds somewhere without me. Eight seconds everybody looked. [Final Chorus — enormous soaring vocal, instrumentation almost overwhelming him] EVERYBODY STOPPED TALKING WHEN I WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR. I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WERE SAYING. I KNOW YOU'RE NOT SAYING IT ANYMORE. Maybe there's nothing underneath this. Maybe nothing has a sound. Maybe every room goes silent when I'm the one who comes around. [Instrumental — suddenly cuts to the casual groove from the opening] [Final Section — eerily calm] You asked if I wanted another drink. I said I should probably go. Everybody said, "You sure?" Too quickly. Like everybody already knows. I grabbed my coat. You hugged me. You whispered, "Drive safe." I reached the hallway. The door clicked shut. [Pause] Everybody started laughing.