[Verse 1: Enka female lead, deep vibrato over heavy half-time drums] Under the tracks where the trains shake the bottles on the shelf I run a bar with seven stools, I pour and sing it myself Friday nights a boy comes in with his knuckles split and raw Orders tea, he's seventeen, with a bruise along his jaw Never picks a song, he says the songs are for old men I say sit, I'll pick for you, and I pour his tea again And I sing the oldest one I know, about a station and a train And he watches how I hold the note and how I bend it through the pain [Hook: Enka female lead, full band, crying guitar] Make a fist, but not to swing it, make a fist to hold the line Close your hand around the note and keep it closed until it's time Kobushi, that's the word, the same word for the hand you throw Make a fist, and let me show you what a fist was made to hold [Verse 2: Enka female lead, harder, shakuhachi cries] He says Mama, how'd you do it, that little turn up in the throat I say kobushi, little fist, you close it round the note He laughs and says a fist I know, I got a pair of those I say yours are made for openin' a door with someone's nose So every Friday after that he'd come and try a line His voice would crack, his hands would ball, he'd hit the bar in time I said no, you're punchin' it, you're throwin' it away You don't throw a note, you keep it, like a hand that wants to stay [Bridge: Enka female lead, fist close, four drum hits, one for every finger folding, then the full band] Little finger, ring finger, slow Middle finger, first finger, close Thumb goes last and thumb goes over Now hold it, hold it, and don't you let it go [Verse 3: Enka female lead, full band, deep vibrato] By spring his knuckles healed up and the split skin knit up white He came in on a Friday and he asked to sing that night And he held one line so long the trains went by and couldn't cover it Seven stools went quiet and the cook came out to hover in it When he finished he looked down at his own hand, closed up tight Nothin' in it but a song, and for once it felt all right Then he opened it and held it out and took my wrinkled one And he said Mama, now I get it, a fist is for holdin' on [Hook: Enka female lead, full band, crying guitar] Make a fist, but not to swing it, make a fist to hold the line Close your hand around the note and keep it closed until it's time Kobushi, that's the word, the same word for the hand you throw Make a fist, and let me show you what a fist was made to hold [End]
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