Sight Lines Lyrics

[Verse 1] | He sees her laugh | from the wrong damn chair, | sees his own hand | with nothing there. | Sees the angle | cut him thin, | sees every grin | as evidence. | She sees the door, | she sees his shoulders set, | sees the little crack | in what he saw. | She says nothing. | He says less. | The glass between them | does the rest. | [Pre-Chorus] | Step left, | it changes. | Step right, | it bites. | Every heart | has bad sight lines. | [Chorus] | Sight lines, | baby, sight lines, | you see a crown, | I see a knife. | Sight lines, | dirty little sight lines, | one wrong inch | can wreck your life. | From his side of the room, | she’s halfway gone. | From where she sits, | he’s already wrong. | Sight lines, | baby, sight lines, | everybody bleeds | from their own side. | [Verse 2] | He sees a hand | near her lower back, | sees a cheap smile | he can’t attack. | No touch too long, | no crime too clear, | just enough smoke | to feed the fear. | She sees him shrink | behind his drink, | sees the whole damn night | turn mean in ink. | She knows that stare. | She knows that math. | A little love | with a broken graph. | [Pre-Chorus] | Step left, | it changes. | Step right, | it bites. | Every heart | has bad sight lines. | [Chorus] | Sight lines, | baby, sight lines, | you see a crown, | I see a knife. | Sight lines, | dirty little sight lines, | one wrong inch | can wreck your life. | From his side of the room, | she’s halfway gone. | From where she sits, | he’s already wrong. | Sight lines, | baby, sight lines, | everybody bleeds | from their own side. | [Verse 3] | There’s a mirror | behind the bar, | making close things | look too far. | There’s a window | painted black, | showing every fool | what he lacks. | He sees a version | with teeth and heat. | She sees a man | who won’t leave his seat. | [Bridge] | Move the chair. | Move the blame. | Move the mouth | around the flame. | Tilt the glass. | Cut the light. | Make the wrong thing | look half right. | He saw danger. | She saw control. | He saw hunger. | She saw a hole. | He saw leaving. | She saw a trap. | [Chorus] | Sight lines, | baby, sight lines, | you see a crown, | I see a knife. | Sight lines, | dirty little sight lines, | one wrong inch | can wreck your life. | From his side of the room, | she’s halfway gone. | From where she sits, | he’s already wrong. | Sight lines, | baby, sight lines, | everybody bleeds | from their own side. | [Breakdown] | Eye to glass. | Back to wall. | Smile gets sharp. | Hands get small. | Jaw gets tight. | Pulse gets mean. | Nothing clean | in what gets seen. | Eye to glass. | Back to wall. | One more glance | and down it falls. | [Final Chorus] | Sight lines, | baby, sight lines, | you see a crown, | I see a knife. | Sight lines, | dirty little sight lines, | one wrong inch | can wreck your life. | From his side of the room, | she’s halfway gone. | From where she sits, | he’s already wrong. | Sight lines, | baby, sight lines, | everybody bleeds | from their own side. | [Outro] | He moves the chair. | She turns the glass. | He moves the chair. | She turns the glass. | He moves the chair. | She turns the glass.

[Verse 1] | He has three cars beneath the house, | Still watches what the neighbors drive, | A closet full of tailored jackets, | Half of them have never seen outside. | He bought the painting for the number, | Couldn't tell you who designed the frame, | But somebody else tried bidding higher, | That was reason enough to pay. | He doesn't want the thing he's buying, | He wants the bastard next in line | To watch him take it off the table | With a signature and smile. | And anybody holding something | Means there's something he ain't got yet. | [Pre-Chorus] | More than you. | More than him. | More than anybody sees. | He doesn't need another dollar— | He needs you to have less than he. | [Chorus] | ENOUGH IS FOR LOSERS! | Pile it higher, lock it tight! | If somebody else can touch it, | Then it isn't really mine. | ENOUGH IS FOR LOSERS! | Every appetite gets fed, | Then comes crawling back tomorrow | Twice as hungry as it left. | Buy the room and buy the building, | Buy the street outside the door— | Greed doesn't want everything. | Greed wants everything | plus one more. | [Verse 2] | She keeps dresses with the labels, | Shoes still sleeping in their box, | Kitchen drawers full of replacements | For replacements she forgot. | Every package gives a heartbeat, | Every purchase gives a rush, | Then the cardboard hits the garbage | And the feeling turns to dust. | There's another sale tomorrow, | Another thing she suddenly needs, | Another little manufactured hole | With something shiny made to fit. | She calls the clutter “having options,” | Calls the debt “enjoying life,” | Then lies awake beside possessions | That couldn't hold her if she cried. | [Pre-Chorus] | More than yesterday. | More tomorrow. | More can never leave you bored. | When nothing scratches the infection, | You just scratch the bastard more. | [Chorus] | ENOUGH IS FOR LOSERS! | Pile it higher, lock it tight! | If somebody else can touch it, | Then it isn't really mine. | ENOUGH IS FOR LOSERS! | Every appetite gets fed, | Then comes crawling back tomorrow | Twice as hungry as it left. | Buy the room and buy the building, | Buy the street outside the door— | Greed doesn't want everything. | Greed wants everything | plus one more. | [Bridge] | Take the bonus. | Cut the wages. | Tell the workers times are tough. | Raise the rent. | Shrink the portions. | Call record profits “not enough.” | Buy the senator. | Buy the headline. | Buy the company next door. | Fire half the people working | Then make everybody else do more. | The richest man still checks the rankings | To find out what another's worth. | And if he reaches number one, | He won't lean back and enjoy the view. | He'll start counting what the dead men owned | And get jealous of them too. | [Final Chorus] | ENOUGH IS FOR LOSERS! | That's the gospel greed recites. | (Turn your wants into necessities,) | (Turn necessities into rights.) | ENOUGH IS FOR LOSERS! | Keep consuming till you're consumed. | Fill the mansion, fill the warehouse, | Fill the fucking family tomb. | Own the acres. | Own the companies. | Own what everybody came here for. | Then spend your final dying minute | Trying to negotiate for more. | They'll empty out your pockets | Before they lower you through the floor.

[Verse 1] | Mother's standing in the kitchen, | But we buried her last summer. | Same blue dress we buried her in, | Same cheap perfume fills the room. | She's cutting carrots at the counter, | Knife goes tap against the board, | Never turns when I come closer, | Never looks toward the door. | I say, "Mom?" | The chopping stops. | Her shoulders rise beneath the dress. | Then she answers in my father's voice— | "Go back upstairs and rest." | [Pre-Chorus] | Don't ask what came home. | Don't ask where it learned her face. | Whatever walked in after midnight | Knows every fucking thing in this place. | [Chorus] | Something wearing Mother | Is walking through the hall. | It knows which step is broken. | It knows the pictures on the wall. | It knows the song she used to hum, | But every fucking note is wrong. | Something wearing Mother | Has been standing here too long. | [Verse 2] | Four a.m., I hear her talking | Through the heating vent below, | Having both sides of a conversation | With somebody I don't know. | One voice begs to be forgiven. | One keeps asking for the knife. | Then both voices start repeating | Little pieces of my life. | My first school. | My first dog. | The scar beneath my chin. | Then silence. | Then her fingernails | Start scratching from inside the vent. | [Chorus] | Something wearing Mother | Is walking through the hall. | It knows which step is broken. | It knows the pictures on the wall. | It knows the song she used to hum, | But every fucking note is wrong. | Something wearing Mother | Has been standing here too long. | [Verse 3] | Morning finds her in the garden | With both hands beneath the dirt, | Digging holes beside the roses | Still wearing that blue dress. | I watch her through the kitchen window. | She stops digging. | (Turns her head.) | Not her body. | Just her head. | Farther than a neck should bend. | Then she smiles against the window | From thirty fucking feet away. | Her lips don't move. | The glass beside me fogs— | YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME STAY. | [Bridge] | That's not her walk. | That's not her breath. | That's not the woman we laid to rest. | That's not her hand. | That's not her skin. | Don't call her Mother. | Don't let it hear. | Don't answer when it uses voices | That belong to people you held dear. | [Breakdown] | Kitchen. | Empty. | Hallway. | Empty. | Bedroom. | Empty. | Basement door— | Open. | One wet footprint. | Then another. | Then another. | They stop behind me. | [Verse 4] | There's a photograph from that winter | Lying facedown by the stairs. | When I turn it over slowly, | There's another person there. | Standing right behind my mother, | Tall enough to touch the frame, | Face smeared black by something | That the camera couldn't fucking name. | Another picture. | Same shape. | Another year. | Same place. | Always standing slightly closer. | Always staring toward her face. | The final photograph was taken | Three nights before she died. | There is nothing standing near her. | Something's looking through her eyes. | [Final Chorus] | Something wearing Mother | Is breathing down the hall. | It doesn't need the broken step. | It doesn't walk at all. | It knows every word she ever said, | Every scar and every song. | Something wearing Mother | Has been waiting all along. | Don't call her Mother. | Don't say a word back. | The voice is hers. | The thing inside it | Fucking isn't. | [Outro] | Sunrise. | Kitchen empty. | Knife on the counter. | Blue dress over a chair. | The back door hangs open. | Mud crosses the floor | from the garden | to the basement. | One footprint. | Two. | Three. | Then bare human footprints | coming back upstairs.

[Verse 1] | The kitchen clock still hangs there crooked on the nail, | One hand stuck on twelve, the other somewhere past betrayal. | There's a dent beside the doorway where the picture frame went through, | And half a coffee cup still glued together on the shelf. | Nobody throws it out. | Nobody drinks from it. | Your coat's still in the closet, | mine's still on the chair. | Two people living twenty feet apart | like strangers paying rent. | [Pre-Chorus] | We patch the holes. | We hide the cracks. | We shove the table hard against the wall | where all the plaster fell. | Looks fine from outside. | That's always been the trick. | [Chorus] | Nothing fits back right | once the edges get torn. | You can force the pieces together, | but the shape is fucking gone. | Tape around the fractures, | Paint across the scars, | Sleep beside somebody | who might as well be miles apart. | Nothing fits back right. | We just keep pressing harder | till another piece gives way. | [Verse 2] | Your side of the mattress has a valley from the years, | Mine has sheets pulled tight enough to hide where I disappear. | We talk in little sentences built carefully around | Every subject with enough weight to bring the ceiling down. | "Need anything?" | "No." | "You hungry?" | "No." | "You going out?" | "Maybe." | A whole history sitting between us | while we argue over milk. | [Pre-Chorus] | We fix the sink. | We pay the bills. | We hang another picture | over something neither one will fill. | Looks fine from outside. | That's always been the trick. | [Chorus] | Nothing fits back right | once the edges get torn. | You can force the pieces together, | but the shape is fucking gone. | Tape around the fractures, | Paint across the scars, | Sleep beside somebody | who might as well be miles apart. | Nothing fits back right. | We just keep pressing harder | till another piece gives way. | [Verse 3] | Last winter the furnace died around three a.m., | We sat wrapped in separate blankets waiting for repair. | You said, "Do you ever think about—" | Then stopped. | I said, "About what?" | You stared toward the floor. | "Nothing." | That word stayed in the room | long after the heat came back. | By spring, the bedroom window wouldn't close. | By summer, the porch step split. | By fall, the basement took on water | every time the sky let loose. | I kept fixing everything | with screws, caulk, wire and spite. | You watched from the doorway | like you knew better. | [Bridge] | A hinge starts dragging. | A pipe starts knocking. | A hand stops reaching. | A voice gets flat. | A kiss becomes a habit. | A bed becomes a border. | Then one morning | there's nothing left to point at | and say, | "There. | That's where it happened." | [Breakdown] | TIGHTEN IT. | Still loose. | GLUE IT. | Still split. | HOLD IT. | Still slipping. | PRESS HARDER. | Crack. | There goes another piece. | No explosion. | No slammed door. | No final fucking scene. | Just two people getting smaller | inside the same old rooms. | [Final Chorus] | Nothing fits back right | once the edges get torn. | You can force the pieces together, | but the shape is fucking gone. | Tape around the fractures, | Paint across the scars, | Sleep beside somebody | who might as well be miles apart. | Nothing fits back right. | We just keep pressing harder | till another piece gives way. | [Outro] | Tonight the kitchen light flickers again. | I tap the switch. | It stays on. | For now. | You walk past me carrying laundry. | I move aside. | Neither of us speaks. | The old coffee cup | slips from the shelf. | Hits the floor. | This time | nobody reaches down. | We just stare at the pieces. | Then step around them.

I knew what I hadn’t seen, | and built my whole defense around it. | Kept my chair turned toward the clean side, | kept the ugly angle out of frame. | If somebody said the view was different | from where they had to stand, | I could always find a reason | their eyes were making too much of it. | Certain innocence, | God, I wore it well. | Never pulled the trigger, | never heard the shell. | Certain innocence, | clean hands, narrowed sight— | I didn’t have to tell the lie. | I only had to look away right. | There were cracks beneath the conversation, | little shifts I chose not to pursue. | A laugh that died before it landed. | A story changing halfway through. | Someone leaving early. | Someone never coming back. | Someone saying, “It’s complicated,” | while I admired the certainty | of not knowing enough to act. | I wasn’t cruel. | That’s what I told myself. | Cruel would have required intention. | Cruel would have looked much worse. | I was merely unavailable | at every useful moment. | Certain innocence, | polished smooth by distance. | Every missing piece became | another proof of my resistance. | Certain innocence, | I kept the sight line thin. | Couldn’t see the whole damn thing | from where I chose to stand within. | Years later the angle widens. | That’s the insult. | Not revelation. | Recognition. | The old conversation plays differently | when you know who stopped talking afterward. | The joke has another edge. | The silence has another owner. | That look I called embarrassment | doesn’t look embarrassed anymore. | I can trace the places | where I could have asked one harder question | and decided I was being respectful instead. | Respectful. | Beautiful word. | Covers a lot of retreat. | I remember saying, | “If it were really that bad, | somebody would have done something.” | Somebody. | Excellent choice. | Big enough to include everyone. | Empty enough to include me. | Certain innocence, | I carried it like law. | Nothing entered through the window | if I kept the curtain drawn. | Certain innocence, | every doubt reduced to noise. | I never needed ignorance. | I had something better— | choice. | And here comes the part | where memory tries to rewrite me. | I was younger. | I was scared. | I didn’t understand. | I had my own shit. | I thought somebody else knew more. | I didn’t want to make it worse. | All true. | Every fucking word. | Still doesn’t move the chair. | Still doesn’t change where I was standing | when the view became inconvenient. | Too late is a strange country. | Everybody speaks fluent explanation. | That almost sounds profound. | Fuck profound. | There’s just a person I disappointed | who doesn’t need my improved vocabulary now. | Certain innocence, | I finally see the trick. | Keep enough of the world outside | and nothing ever sticks. | Certain innocence, | I made blindness look refined. | I never missed what happened. | I kept it | just beyond my sight. | So what now? | Nothing useful. | There’s no door left to knock on, | no sentence that arrives in time, | no apology sharp enough | to cut backward through a life. | I can admit it. | Cheap. | I can hate myself. | Cheaper. | I can understand every reason | I behaved the way I did. | That one costs nothing at all. | The photograph stays where it is. | The chair stays where I left it. | The angle stays wrong. | I stand in the better position now, | seeing everything | I should have seen then. | Certain innocence. | Certain. | That was the worst part.

[Verse 1] | You said his joke was funny, | That should've been the end, | But I carried that damn laughter home | And played it back again. | I noticed how you touched his shoulder, | How he leaned into your space, | Then spent the drive inventing reasons | For the smile upon your face. | I asked you what you thought about him | Like I didn't give a shit, | Then studied every word you answered | For some hidden piece of it. | You said, “He's nice.” | Two harmless words. | They followed me upstairs. | By midnight “nice” meant you were leaving, | And I was measuring myself against him there. | [Pre-Chorus] | I don't need to catch you cheating. | I don't need a single lie. | Give insecurity a photograph | And it'll manufacture a crime. | [Chorus] | I'M SECOND PLACE IN YOUR EYES! | Or maybe only in my head, | But every man who makes you smile | Becomes somebody in our bed. | I'M SECOND PLACE IN YOUR EYES! | I keep score you never made, | (Turning love into a contest) | Where I'm terrified I'll be replaced. | You never asked me to compete. | You never handed out a prize. | Still I'm losing to every bastard | Who looks better through my eyes. | [Verse 2] | He makes more money than I make. | That one's taller. That one's young. | That one knows the bands you listen to. | That one knows another tongue. | This one's built like some damn statue. | That one's charming without trying. | I can turn a room of strangers | Into reasons you should leave my side. | Then jealousy gets hungry. | It doesn't stop with other men. | I envy how you love your work, | How you light up with your friends. | I hate the hours that don't include me, | Every pleasure that's not mine, | Till your happiness feels threatening | Whenever I'm outside its light. | [Chorus] | I'M SECOND PLACE IN YOUR EYES! | Or maybe only in my head, | But every man who makes you smile | Becomes somebody in our bed. | I'M SECOND PLACE IN YOUR EYES! | I keep score you never made, | (Turning love into a contest) | Where I'm terrified I'll be replaced. | You never asked me to compete. | You never handed out a prize. | Still I'm losing to every bastard | Who looks better through my eyes. | [Verse 3] | Then one night you finally asked me | Why I punish you for staying, | Why every reassurance that you give | Becomes another interrogation. | You said, “How many times must I choose you | Before you let that choice be real? | How much of me must I surrender | Before you're satisfied with how I feel?” | I had no clever accusation. | No suspicious little clue. | Just a frightened man who hated himself | And made the problem you. | I'd been guarding every doorway | From imaginary thieves, | While slowly becoming the very reason | You might finally fucking leave. | [Bridge] | Their laughter becomes judgment. | Their history becomes threat. | Their beauty becomes evidence | You're easy to forget. | You don't fear they're finding someone. | You fear they'll finally see | Every ugly little reason | You've collected against yourself for years. | Then you hand those reasons to them | And demand they prove them wrong, | Till loving you becomes a trial | Nobody survives for long. | [Breakdown] | WHO'S HE? | WHY HIM? | WHY'D YOU SMILE? | WHERE'VE YOU BEEN? | Check the phone! | Check the time! | (Turn affection into crime!) | Compare! | Compete! | Assume defeat! | Make every stranger fucking me! | Keep digging for betrayal | Till devotion cannot breathe! | [Final Chorus] | I'M SECOND PLACE IN YOUR EYES! | No—I'm second place in mine, | And I made you pay the difference | Every single fucking night. | I'M SECOND PLACE IN YOUR EYES! | That's the lie I chose to feed, | Till suspicion ate the tenderness | And fear became the need. | I kept searching for the man you'd choose— | And missed the man you chose already. | [Outro] | Months later I saw your picture. | You were laughing next to him. | The guy from that first party. | Funny. | I spent years imagining that ending. | Then trained you how to live without me | Till imagination finally won.

[Verse 1] | You step inside and shut the door, | And patience dies against the frame. | No hello worth the wasted breath, | No little dance around the flame. | Your shirt is half off by the hallway, | Mine is hanging from one hand, | Your mouth finds mine like bad intent, | Like neither one of us had planned | To make it past the first damn minute | Without skin against the wall. | You pull me closer by the belt | Like distance is the worst thing of all. | No later. | No maybe. | No "give me just a minute." | There isn't one fucking second | I want anything but this. | [Pre-Chorus] | Don't slow me down. | Don't make me ask. | Don't dress this up in something safe. | I want your hands. | I want your breath. | I want the room to lose its shape. | [Chorus] | Right now or get out, | There's no middle ground tonight. | Right now or get out, | I've got too much heat to keep it polite. | Pull me close enough to kill thought, | Hard enough to shut it down. | I don't need a promise after. | I need you | Right the fuck now. | [Verse 2] | Your fingers catch beneath my shirt, | Mine lock hard around your waist, | Every touch arrives too late | The second after it takes place. | The hallway narrows under pressure, | Bedroom feels a mile away, | Your breath lands hot against my neck | And every decent instinct frays. | One chair gets kicked out sideways, | One glass rolls under the sink, | Neither one of us looks down | Or gives the mess a second thought. | You bite once. | I pull you harder. | That answers everything. | [Chorus] | Right now or get out, | There's no middle ground tonight. | Right now or get out, | I've got too much heat to keep it polite. | Pull me close enough to kill thought, | Hard enough to shut it down. | I don't need a promise after. | I need you | Right the fuck now. | [Verse 3] | No candlelight, no sweet slow bullshit, | No practiced line about restraint, | Just bodies turning impatient | Till good judgment feels too faint. | Your nails drag hard across my shoulder, | My hand slips low and stays, | You push me back against the doorway | Like you mean to keep me there. | We miss the bedroom by a second, | Then stop pretending that we care. | The wall takes half the punishment. | The rest stays between skin and air. | [Bridge] | Don't tell me "soon." | Don't tell me "wait." | Don't tell me timing makes it great. | Give me the wall. | Give me the floor. | Give me whatever's nearest to the door. | Give me your mouth. | Give me your hands. | Give me every fucking inch you can. | No counting down. | No cooling off. | No stopping once the fuse is gone. | [Breakdown] | Closer. | Harder. | Still too far. | Hands. | Hips. | Teeth. | Jaw. | One step. | Wall. | Good. | Stay. | Don't talk. | Move. | Again. | Again. | Again. | Don't fucking stop. | [Verse 4] | By now the room is wrecked enough | To tell the whole damn story straight. | One shoe near the kitchen doorway, | One lamp hanging off its base. | Your hair is stuck across your cheek, | My pulse is beating through my throat, | Every time the tension dips | One look brings the whole thing back. | There's only now and what comes next | And every filthy thing between. | The neighbor pounds the wall once. | You laugh. | I don't. | The bedframe starts again. | [Final Chorus] | Right now or get out, | There's no middle ground tonight. | Right now or get out, | I've got too much heat to keep it polite. | Pull me close enough to kill thought, | Hard enough to shut it down. | I don't need a promise after. | I need you | Right the fuck now. | No slowdown. | No timeout. | No second guessing now. | Just skin. | Just heat. | Just right fucking now. | [Outro] | The room goes quiet | for half a breath. | One hand moves. | The other follows. | Something hits the floor. | Nobody checks what broke. | The hallway light stays on. | The wall gets hit again.

The kitchen chair became a checkpoint. | Nobody moved it back. | It faced the front door | instead of the table, | one leg worn pale | where his heel kept grinding | the same patch of floor. | Coffee went cold beside him. | Dinner happened behind him. | He watched the deadbolt | like it owed him money. | Nobody asked why. | That was the arrangement. | Lockdown ended. | The chair didn’t. | He could see the porch, | half the driveway, | the strip beneath the door | where a shadow arrived | before a knock. | Best seat in the house | if your idea of comfort | was seeing trouble early. | He called it habit. | They let him. | The kitchen chair became a checkpoint, | every sound had to pass his eyes. | The kitchen chair became a checkpoint, | nothing crossed that room by surprise. | Keys in the lock. | Weight on the step. | Headlights slowing outside. | He never said he was waiting. | He just always faced | the way danger would arrive. | There were other chairs. | Better ones. | Soft ones. | One beside the window | where he could’ve watched television | without turning his neck. | Didn’t matter. | That chair gave him the angle. | Front door. | Hall opening. | Reflection in the microwave glass. | Enough of the back window | to catch movement | without fully looking away. | Ridiculous. | Efficient. | He hated when someone shifted it | to sweep underneath. | “Put it back.” | Too fast. | Too sharp. | Then quieter: | “Please.” | Nobody mentioned that either. | The kitchen chair became a checkpoint, | every sound had to pass his eyes. | The kitchen chair became a checkpoint, | nothing crossed that room by surprise. | Keys in the lock. | Weight on the step. | Headlights slowing outside. | He never said he was waiting. | He just always faced | the way danger would arrive. | Months went by. | The lock worked. | The walls stayed upright. | People came in carrying groceries, | mail, | bad jokes, | ordinary shit. | Still, | his shoulders tightened | before the knob turned. | Still, | he knew which footsteps belonged. | Still, | a pause outside the door | could stop his fork | between plate and mouth. | He never reached for anything. | Nothing dramatic. | Just watched. | No one could point at the chair | and call it fear | without making the whole kitchen | look at him. | So they ate around it. | Someone passed the salt | behind his shoulder. | Someone talked over his silence. | Someone once started, | “You know you don’t have to—” | He looked up. | The sentence died there. | After that, | they got better at leaving things alone. | He had gotten good at pretending too. | Good enough to laugh. | Good enough to complain about bills. | Good enough to answer | when somebody asked | what he wanted for dinner. | Bad enough | that the chair stayed pointed at the door. | One evening | the power cut out. | The house went black. | Everybody froze. | He didn’t. | He knew the distance | from chair to deadbolt | without seeing a damn thing. | Hand on the lock. | Ear near the wood. | Breathing held. | Nothing outside. | Nothing at all. | Power came back. | He returned to the chair. | Nobody said a word. | The kitchen chair became a checkpoint, | every sound had to pass his eyes. | The kitchen chair became a checkpoint, | nothing crossed that room by surprise. | Keys in the lock. | Weight on the step. | Headlights slowing outside. | He never said he was waiting. | He just always faced | the way danger would arrive. | Later, | someone buys a new table. | Different shape. | The old chair doesn’t fit right. | They try it sideways. | He turns it. | They try it at the far end. | He turns it. | At last, | they leave the damn thing | where he wants it. | Front door in full view. | Heel finds the pale spot. | Coffee beside him. | Conversation behind him. | The knob moves. | His eyes are already there.

[Verse 1] | I practiced yours beside the sink, | pulled one corner up too high, | tried the little crooked version | that makes strangers wonder why. | Mine looked tired, yours looked reckless, | mine gave every doubt away, | so I trained it out each morning | till my face forgot its way. | [Chorus] | Somebody else’s smile, | sitting easy on my face, | borrowed charm and borrowed timing, | every movement in its place. | Somebody else’s smile, | and they like me better now. | [Verse 2] | People started leaning closer, | started laughing when I spoke. | I kept feeding them your manner | till they swallowed every joke. | [Bridge] | I caught myself alone last night, | nothing funny, nothing wrong. | Still that smile climbed up by habit. | It stayed there far too long. | [Final Chorus] | Somebody else’s smile, | working better every day. | Mine used to happen naturally. | I can’t remember it that way.

[Verse 1] | A man behind a polished desk | Moves markers on a printed map, | Says, “We cannot tolerate aggression,” | Then sends somebody else's kid to answer that. | His coffee's warm, his hands are steady, | His children sleep three towns away, | While eighteen-year-olds learn the difference | Between a body and a casualty today. | The speeches sound magnificent, | Duty, honor, sacred ground, | Nobody says “burned apartment.” | Nobody says “missing jaw.” | Put a number in the briefing | And suddenly the dead become statistics of war. | [Pre-Chorus] | Move the line. | Take the hill. | Send another hundred through. | It's easy being brave with lives | That don't belong to you. | [Chorus] | THEY NEVER SEND THE MEN WHO START IT! | Never put their blood beneath the mud! | THEY NEVER SEND THE MEN WHO START IT! | They sign the paper, we supply the blood! | Plant the flag upon the rubble, | Tell the cameras that we won, | Then find another grieving mother | And explain what glory cost her son. | War looks clean upon a map | Where every arrow knows its part— | Maps don't show a father digging | Through a house | to find his daughter's arm. | [Verse 2] | The private had a girlfriend, | Kept her picture in his vest, | Said he'd marry her in autumn | If this bullshit ever fucking ended. | Across the street behind a window, | Some scared kid from the other side | Had a photograph inside his pocket | Of the woman he'd promised to make his wife. | Neither hated one another. | Neither knew the other's tongue. | Both had officers behind them. | Both were terrified and young. | One saw movement. | One heard shouting. | One squeezed first. | That's all it took. | Two families became casualties | For half a block | nobody wanted by sunrise. | [Chorus] | THEY NEVER SEND THE MEN WHO START IT! | Never put their blood beneath the mud! | THEY NEVER SEND THE MEN WHO START IT! | They sign the paper, we supply the blood! | Plant the flag upon the rubble, | Tell the cameras that we won, | Then find another grieving mother | And explain what glory cost her son. | War looks clean upon a map | Where every arrow knows its part— | Maps don't show a father digging | Through a house | to find his daughter's arm. | [Bridge] | The guns stop first. | The war doesn't. | It lives inside the veteran | Who hits the floor when fireworks crack. | Lives inside the little girl | Who still sleeps wearing her backpack. | Lives beneath the missing buildings. | Lives in photographs of dead. | Lives inside the empty chair | Nobody moves when dinner's set. | Politicians shake each other's hands. | Markets rise. | The headlines change. | Someone gives a victory speech | Beside a hundred waving flags. | The private comes home in a box. | The other kid does too. | Different flags across the coffins. | Same mothers folding in two. | [Breakdown] | Who won? | Point. | Show me. | Was it the widow? | Was it the child? | Was it the soldier missing both his legs | Who wakes up screaming every night? | Was it the city without water? | Was it the village without sons? | Or was it somebody signing contracts | Before the shooting had begun? | [Final Chorus] | THEY NEVER SEND THE MEN WHO START IT! | They'll send another generation first! | THEY NEVER SEND THE MEN WHO START IT! | Then teach the survivors what their sacrifice was worth! | Build the statues, write the speeches, | Polish history till it shines, | Leave the screams outside the textbook, | Put the victories inside. | Then twenty years from now some bastard | Moves another marker on a map. | Calls the room to order. | Clears his throat. | Says, | “We have exhausted every option.” | And somebody else's child | starts packing | a fucking bag.

Verse 1

She kicks the door shut with her heel,
Throws her jacket somewhere blind,
That little grin says every decent
Thought has already changed its mind.
My shirt gets caught around one elbow,
Her dress rides higher with each step,
The hallway ain’t built for patience
And neither one of us has any left.
Her back hits wood, my hands find trouble,
Her teeth catch hard against my lip,
One chair gets knocked against the table,
One lamp starts losing its grip.

She says, “You gonna keep behaving?”

I say, “Not a fucking chance.”

She laughs.

That’s gasoline.

Pre-Chorus

Too hot for talking.
Too close for clean.
Too far gone to act like either one
Came here for anything sweet.

Chorus

Get filthy enough to break something,
Hard enough to wake the wall.
Leave clothes like evidence behind us,
Let good judgment take the fall.
Sweat running, breath going ragged,
Every bad idea in reach.
Get filthy enough to break something.

Then break another fucking piece.

Verse 2

The couch lasts maybe half a minute,
Then one leg slides across the floor,
We both hit carpet laughing,
Still tangled like we planned it more.
Her nails leave little red reminders,
My belt lands under someone’s shoe,
A glass rolls circles by the doorway
While we find something worse to do.
She whispers something in my ear
That makes the whole damn room feel small,
Then drags me closer by the collar
Till restraint ain’t there at all.

No candles.

No soft-focus bullshit.

No careful little line.

Just skin, heat, mouths and pressure
Making wreckage out of time.

Chorus

Get filthy enough to break something,
Hard enough to wake the wall.
Leave clothes like evidence behind us,
Let good judgment take the fall.
Sweat running, breath going ragged,
Every bad idea in reach.
Get filthy enough to break something.

Then break another fucking piece.

Verse 3

Somewhere near the bedroom doorway
We lose track of what comes off,
One heel stays stuck beneath the dresser,
One stocking vanishes completely.
She bites down near my shoulder,
I pull her harder by the waist,
Every move keeps getting rougher,
Every second kills more space.
The headboard starts reporting
Every terrible decision made,
Some bastard knocks from next door twice.

She knocks three times back.

Game fucking played.

Bridge

No future tense.

No morning speech.

No careful line about what this means.

Give me teeth marks.

Give me sweat.

Give me one more bad idea we haven’t tried yet.

Give me the wall.

Give me the floor.

Give me the crooked half-broke bedroom door.

Give me that look
That says the whole damn room
Is about to regret us more.

Breakdown

Hands.

Waist.

Mouth.

Thighs.

Too close.

No time.

Pull harder.

Stay there.

One breath.

Two curses.

Something hits the floor.

Nobody stops.

Something else breaks.

Nobody checks.

Verse 4

Now the room looks half-condemned,
Sheets twisted, blanket on the ground,
Her hair is stuck across her cheek,
My heartbeat won’t come fucking down.
Every time it starts to settle,
One look winds it back up tight,
She hooks one finger in my collar
And drags me straight into another fight.
Nothing polished left between us,
Nothing pretty left to sell,
Just two bodies making furniture
Wish it had insurance from hell.

The neighbor hits the wall again.

We both start laughing.

Then the bed answers louder.

Final Chorus

Get filthy enough to break something,
Hard enough to wake the wall.
Leave clothes like evidence behind us,
Let good judgment take the fall.
Sweat running, breath going ragged,
Every bad idea in reach.
Get filthy enough to break something.

Then break another fucking piece.

No lesson.

No romance.

No clean excuse tomorrow needs.

Just filthy enough to break something.

And still not fucking finished.

Outro

Two twenty-seven.

Lamp crooked.

Couch wounded.

One shoe in the hallway.

One picture face down.

Three knocks through the wall.

She looks over.

Smiles.

The headboard answers first.

[Verse 1] | I saw you laughing with somebody | At the bar where we used to meet, | Watched the way you leaned toward her | And felt my blood beneath my teeth. | You weren't cheating. | You weren't lying. | You hadn't even looked my way. | Still my brain began constructing | Every reason you should pay. | I know the sound of my own bullshit. | I know where it starts. | One harmless little moment | And I turn it into evidence. | I don't need a smoking gun. | I don't need a fucking crime. | Jealousy can manufacture guilt | From absolutely nothing. | [Pre-Chorus] | It doesn't ask what's true. | It asks what hurts the most. | Then feeds me every answer | Till suspicion feels like proof. | [Chorus] | JEALOUSY HAS A KNIFE! | And I keep it by my bed, | Cutting holes in every good thing | Just to see what's underneath. | JEALOUSY HAS A KNIFE! | It wants somebody to blame, | If I can't control your heart | Then I'll destroy the fucking game. | I don't want to lose you. | That's what makes it fucking worse. | I'm so terrified you'll leave me | That I'll make you leave me first. | [Verse 2] | I started checking little details, | When you came home, where you'd been, | Reading meaning into silence, | Reading betrayal in a grin. | You'd say, “Nothing's wrong,” I'd hear, | “There's something you don't know.” | You'd say, “I love you,” I'd wonder | Who you'd said it to before. | I became a fucking detective | In a case that wasn't real, | (Turning privacy to secrecy) | And paranoia into zeal. | You stopped telling me your stories | Just to keep another fight away. | I called that proof you had secrets. | I was the reason you stayed quiet. | [Chorus] | JEALOUSY HAS A KNIFE! | And I keep it by my bed, | Cutting holes in every good thing | Just to see what's underneath. | JEALOUSY HAS A KNIFE! | It wants somebody to blame, | If I can't control your heart | Then I'll destroy the fucking game. | I don't want to lose you. | That's what makes it fucking worse. | I'm so terrified you'll leave me | That I'll make you leave me first. | [Verse 3] | Then one night you finally told me, | “I can't live like this anymore. | Every stranger is a rival. | Every friend becomes a war. | I keep proving I'm devoted | While you keep moving every goal. | You don't want me to be faithful. | You want ownership of my soul.” | And there it was. | The ugly fucking truth. | I wasn't guarding something precious. | I was trying to guarantee it couldn't leave. | [Bridge] | I can't put a lock on somebody's heart. | I can't chain tomorrow to today. | I can't interrogate affection | Till it finally learns to stay. | If you love me, you choose me. | If you leave, I fucking hurt. | That's the price of loving anybody | Who isn't property first. | [Breakdown] | WHO WAS SHE? | WHERE WERE YOU? | WHO TEXTED? | WHAT DID THEY DO? | CHECK THE PHONE! | CHECK THE DOOR! | CHECK THE FUCKING FLOOR! | FIND A LIE! | FIND A THREAT! | FIND SOMETHING TO REGRET! | NO! | [Final Chorus] | JEALOUSY HAD A KNIFE! | And I finally put it down, | Stopped turning every stranger | Into someone to bring down. | JEALOUSY HAD A KNIFE! | I know what it cost, | I spent so much time fearing losing you | That I almost lost us both. | [Outro] | You walk back through the doorway. | I don't ask where you've been. | You kiss me. | I kiss you back.

[Verse 1] | She throws the keys down on the counter, | I can tell tonight went bad, | Mascara smudged beneath one eye, | Jaw set hard enough to crack. | I ask if she wants talking. | She says, "Not one fucking word." | Then stands there with both arms folded | Like the question still got heard. | I make coffee she won't drink, | She steals my chair and kicks off both her shoes, | Says, "Don't look at me like that." | "What look?" | "The one you always use." | We sit there pissed in separate corners, | Same kitchen, same stale air. | Nobody fixes anything. | Nobody leaves either. | [Pre-Chorus] | Some nights you hold me. | Some nights you don't. | Some nights the best we fucking manage | Is not doing what we know we could. | [Chorus] | Stay mad, stay here. | Say the ugly shit out loud. | Throw the pillow, slam the drawer, | Walk circles through the house. | Don't hand me pretty promises | You know won't make it through the year. | If you're gonna hate me tonight, | Fine. | Stay mad. | Stay here. | [Verse 2] | I know how she gets when money's tight, | She knows when I'm about to lie, | Knows every bullshit little dodge | Before I even fucking try. | She leaves wet towels on the bathroom floor, | I leave lights on everywhere, | She steals fries straight off my plate | Then says she didn't fucking care. | We have fought over dishes, rent, | Her sister, my temper, the car, | Once spent three days barely speaking | Over something stupid at a bar. | Still she knows how I take coffee. | Still I know which side she sleeps. | Still her hand finds mine in traffic | When some bastard cuts too deep. | [Chorus] | Stay mad, stay here. | Say the ugly shit out loud. | Throw the pillow, slam the drawer, | Walk circles through the house. | Don't hand me pretty promises | You know won't make it through the year. | If you're gonna hate me tonight, | Fine. | Stay mad. | Stay here. | [Verse 3] | There've been nights she packed a suitcase, | Mornings I slept in the truck, | Afternoons where every sentence | Started sharp and ended fucked. | One dinner ended with her crying, | One birthday finished in the rain, | One dinner sat untouched between us | While we tore open old pain. | Nobody here is innocent. | Nobody gets to play the saint. | We know where to cut | And every scar the other hates. | That knowledge can be mercy. | It can be a loaded gun. | Sometimes we set the bastard down. | Sometimes we don't. | [Bridge] | Don't sell me destiny. | Don't sell me perfect. | Don't tell me we were made to fit. | We weren't. | We learned where all the corners are | By hitting every fucking one of them. | Give me the bad week. | Give me the shut door. | Give me "don't fucking touch me" | Followed by feet crossing the bedroom floor. | Give me the morning after | With cold coffee and no speech. | Two people sharing one damn room | With everything still out of reach. | [Breakdown] | "You hurt me." | "I know." | "That's not enough." | "I know." | "Then what the fuck do you want?" | "I don't know." | The room holds it. | Fridge hum. | Car passes. | She slides the sugar toward me. | I push the ashtray toward her. | Nobody says thanks. | [Verse 4] | Years leave dents in everything, | Mattress, floorboards, faces, plans, | Hair goes gray in crooked patches, | Strength slips out of both our hands. | One starts missing little details, | One repeats a story twice, | One keeps pretending they don't notice | How the other checks the price. | Bills still come. | The sink still leaks. | The hallway light still flickers on. | Some nights one sleeps sitting upright | While the other waits till dawn. | Sometimes the whole damn thing is simply | Who still reaches for the lock. | [Final Chorus] | Stay mad, stay here. | Say the ugly shit out loud. | Throw the pillow, slam the drawer, | Walk circles through the house. | Don't hand me pretty promises | You know won't make it through the year. | If you're gonna hate me tonight, | Fine. | Stay mad. | Stay here. | [Outro] | Three seventeen. | The kitchen light is still on. | Her coat hangs over my chair. | My boots block the hallway. | Nobody apologized. | Nobody packed a bag. | The fridge keeps humming. | Morning comes anyway.

[Verse 1] | I ate enough to stop the shaking, | Still I wanted something more, | Stood beneath the kitchen light | With every cabinet door ajar. | Nothing there could scratch the feeling, | Nothing tasted like the need, | I wasn't looking for a dinner— | I was looking to be freed. | From the pressure in my rib cage, | From the silence after dark, | From that animal that wakes up | When there's nothing left to want. | Give it sugar, give it whiskey, | Give it somebody else's skin, | Anything that makes me feel full | For a minute from within. | [Pre-Chorus] | The mouth is just an entrance. | The hunger lives below. | [Chorus] | I'M STARVING WITH A FULL MOUTH! | Still swallowing the world, | Got everything I begged to have | And nothing fucking works. | I'M STARVING WITH A FULL MOUTH! | More is never what I need, | But hunger doesn't give a damn— | It only knows to feed. | Stuff the silence with consumption, | Stuff the loneliness with noise, | Keep chewing through whatever's left | Till wanting kills the choice. | [Verse 2] | There's a woman chasing lovers | Like affection's oxygen, | Every body feels like rescue | Till she's lonely next to them. | There's a man collecting money | Past the point he'd ever spend, | Still checking every number | Like the numbers call him friend. | There's a kid refreshing comments, | Hungry for another heart, | Watching strangers tap approval | While his confidence falls apart. | There's a preacher chasing followers, | There's a junkie chasing numb, | Different mouths around the table— | Same command inside them all. | More. | Just one more. | Then I'll finally be enough. | [Chorus] | I'M STARVING WITH A FULL MOUTH! | Still swallowing the world, | Got everything I begged to have | And nothing fucking works. | I'M STARVING WITH A FULL MOUTH! | More is never what I need, | But hunger doesn't give a damn— | It only knows to feed. | Stuff the silence with consumption, | Stuff the loneliness with noise, | Keep chewing through whatever's left | Till wanting kills the choice. | [Verse 3] | Real hunger has a different voice. | It's a mother cutting dinner | Into three and eating none. | It's a worker counting quarters | Under fluorescent grocery lights, | Putting half the cart back slowly | While pretending things are fine. | Meanwhile someone throws away | Enough to feed him for a week, | Then pays a man to teach him | How to stop himself from eating. | One man's empty, one man's sick, | One is starving without dinner, | One from everything he gets. | [Bridge] | Hunger built the fucking species. | Get up. Hunt. Survive. Repeat. | Find the water. Find the shelter. | Find another thing to eat. | Then survival got upholstered. | Need got dressed in better clothes. | Now the animal wants status, | Sex and followers and gold. | Feed me. | Love me. | Touch me. | See me. | Tell me I exist. | [Breakdown] | FEED ME! | FILL ME! | GIVE ME MORE! | Kick the fucking cupboard door! | Money! | Bodies! | Food! | Applause! | Give the hunger something else to gnaw! | Take another! | Take it all! | Stuff the emptiness until— | You finally choke on everything | And fucking want it still! | [Final Chorus] | I'M STARVING WITH A FULL MOUTH! | Nothing left that I can taste, | I turned pleasure into medicine | Then doubled every dose I chased. | I'M STARVING WITH A FULL MOUTH! | Now the hunger's eating me, | Every thing I used to satisfy it | Only taught it how to feed. | [Outro] | The refrigerator's empty. | The bottles line the floor. | My bank account is bleeding. | Nobody calls anymore. | I've swallowed every answer | That I thought would make me whole. | Still something scratches from inside. | Feed me. | Feed me. | Feed me.

[Opening] | Nothing’s on fire. | He checks anyway. | Pulse up. | Fists loose. | Shoes half tied | because evidently sitting still | has become suspicious. | Nothing’s on fire. | That has never stopped him before. | [Verse 1] | A message waits. | Not urgent. | He makes it urgent. | A bill arrives. | Not late. | He pays it like men are coming | to take the fucking walls. | Somebody says, | “Whenever you get a chance.” | He hears, | “Move your ass.” | There’s no deadline. | No siren. | No consequence breathing down his neck. | Still he tears through the hour | like delay itself has insulted him. | Then wonders why his chest hurts | when the danger never showed. | [Chorus] | Five-alarm paper cut, | sound the panic, wake him up. | Tiny little wound | and he’s bleeding like the world blew shut. | Five-alarm paper cut, | every minute dressed for war. | Nothing needs him right this second. | He’s already out the door. | Five-alarm paper cut— | no rush. | Try telling him that. | [Verse 2] | He answers before the question settles. | Calls back before the voicemail ends. | Reads bad intent into three quiet dots | and starts defending himself | against a sentence still being written. | He hates waiting. | Waiting leaves space. | Space lets the mind start inventing | what could go wrong | if he isn’t ten moves ahead | of something that may never move at all. | So he fills it. | Check. | Refresh. | Reply. | Check. | There’s relief in finishing early | that lasts almost long enough | to notice nothing happened. | [Post-Chorus] | Get there first. | Beat the problem. | Beat the problem | that hasn’t arrived. | Get there first. | He’ll rest when— | Yeah. | Sure. | [Verse 3] | They tell him to slow down. | Beautiful advice. | Very portable. | Fits nicely beside | all the other things he agrees with | and never fucking does. | He can turn a dripping faucet | into structural collapse, | a missed call into catastrophe, | a ten-minute delay | into evidence the whole machine | has finally decided to eat him alive. | Then the real emergencies come | and find him already spent. | That’s almost funny. | He doesn’t laugh. | He’s busy handling | some other tiny disaster | with both hands clenched. | [Chorus] | Five-alarm paper cut, | sound the panic, wake him up. | Tiny little wound | and he’s bleeding like the world blew shut. | Five-alarm paper cut, | every minute dressed for war. | Nothing needs him right this second. | He’s already out the door. | Five-alarm paper cut— | no rush. | Try telling him that. | [Middle Eight] | Once, | nothing happens. | A whole stretch of nothing. | No message. | No problem. | No forgotten task | crawling out from under something else. | He lasts badly. | Checks the stove. | Checks the bank. | Checks the driveway. | Checks whether he forgot | what he was supposed to check. | Then it hits him: | he has built a life | where peace feels like missing information. | He hates the thought. | So he finds something to fix. | Much better. | [Breakdown] | Cut finger. | Call the cavalry. | Dropped glass. | Call it tragedy. | Wrong turn. | Full emergency. | Nothing happened? | Check again. | Five-alarm paper cut. | Blood barely there. | Bandage halfway around the world. | Five-alarm paper cut. | [Final Chorus] | Five-alarm paper cut, | sound the panic, wake him up. | Tiny little wound | and he’ll swear the whole damn structure’s coming down. | Five-alarm paper cut, | every minute braced to break. | Nothing needs him right this second. | He’ll invent something that does. | Five-alarm paper cut. | No rush. | No rush. | No fucking rush. | [Outro] | His phone stays quiet. | He puts it down. | Picks it up. | Nothing. | Puts it down. | Crosses the room. | Comes back before the screen can dim. | Nothing. | He checks again.

[Verse 1] | Red sign bleeding through the blinds, | cheap walls sweating out the day. | Your coat fell off like bad advice, | my hands forgot the road away. | You stood there with that wicked calm, | half a smile, black mascara run. | I said this ends in broken glass. | You said good, then locked the room. | The lamp buzzed low beside the bed, | ashtray full from somebody else. | Your dress slid down one inch at a time | like trouble peeling from itself. | No ring. | No plan. | No soft white lie. | Just heat in the throat, | and a match held high. | [Pre-Chorus] | The door chain shook. | The floor went thin. | Your breath hit mine, | and the devil walked in. | [Chorus] | Come close, go rough, make the night confess, | drag the dark across my skin. | I want the sweat, the curse, the wreck, | the room caving in from sin. | No sweet excuse, no saving line, | no pretty prayer to make this clean. | Just your mouth, my hands, low light, | and the ugly part of what we mean. | [Verse 2] | You pushed me back with two sharp palms, | laughing low like a warning bell. | My belt hit down near your black heels, | your eyes said burn, not well. | The mattress groaned, the headboard cracked, | the picture frame jumped off the wall. | You bit your lip and dug in hard, | then dared the ceiling not to fall. | Outside, some drunk kept yelling, | some engine coughed near the ice machine. | Inside, your body found its rhythm, | hard and filthy, hot and mean. | You said don’t stop. | I said no chance. | The room lost shape | when you moved your hips and ran. | [Pre-Chorus] | The door chain shook. | The floor went thin. | Your breath hit mine, | and the devil walked in. | [Chorus] | Come close, go rough, make the night confess, | drag the dark across my skin. | I want the sweat, the curse, the wreck, | the room caving in from sin. | No sweet excuse, no saving line, | no pretty prayer to make this clean. | Just your mouth, my hands, low light, | and the ugly part of what we mean. | [Bridge] | There is a hunger past romance, | It does not ask for gentle words, | it wants the scar beneath the scar. | It wants the table shoved aside. | It wants the mirror fogged and blind. | It wants the part we hide all week | to crawl out slick and lose its mind. | Your nails left maps across my back. | My grip left marks along your thigh. | You laughed once through a broken moan, | then cursed me closer by the hair. | The room went red around the edges, | and all my shame stayed lying there. | [Breakdown] | Skin hot. | Light low. | Hands hard. | Move slow. | Breath gone. | Pulse kicked. | Sheets torn. | Need sick. | [Verse 3] | By four, the air had turned to salt, | smoke, perfume, and cheap red wine. | Your lipstick marked my shoulder blade, | my fingerprints burned down your spine. | You sat there bare under the lamp, | one leg crossed, one match struck dead. | I watched your shadow on the wall | still moving like it owned the bed. | You asked for nothing after that. | I gave the same, and looked away. | The room kept all the louder parts | while silence crawled across the place. | No vow got made. | No wound got cured. | Just bodies spent | and something worse left stirred. | [Final Chorus] | Come close, go rough, make the night confess, | drag the dark across my skin. | I want the sweat, the curse, the wreck, | the room caving in from sin. | No sweet excuse, no saving line, | no pretty prayer to make this clean. | Just your mouth, my hands, low light, | and the ugly part of what we mean. | [Outro] | You left before the sun got cruel, | heels in hand, coat on wrong. | The bed sat twisted like a crime, | the wall still held our heat too long. | Just one dead match beside the ashtray, | and your scent still on my hand.

[Verse 1] | I didn't buy the car to drive it, | I bought the look when I arrived, | Bought the house to make my brother | Feel like he'd accomplished half a life. | Every watch became a ranking, | Every suit became a score, | If somebody had a little less, | I enjoyed mine even more. | My wife said, “Why's it always someone | That you're trying to outdo?” | I said, “Nobody gets remembered | For accepting number two.” | She said, “Nobody's even racing.” | I laughed like she was naïve. | [Pre-Chorus] | Bigger house. | Better body. | Better stories. | Better wife. | If I couldn't be the happiest, | I'd look the happiest alive. | [Chorus] | NEVER SECOND PLACE! | I need somebody underneath! | Winning doesn't taste like anything | Without somebody tasting defeat! | NEVER SECOND PLACE! | Put my picture where they'll see! | I don't need to love what I've become— | I need you wishing you were me. | Call it confidence, ambition, | Call it knowing what I'm worth. | Pride can turn your whole existence | Into proving you're the biggest man on Earth. | [Verse 2] | Then my hair began retreating, | Little lines appeared beside my eyes, | Some young bastard called me “sir” once | And I damn near took it as a fight. | Bought a motorcycle out of nowhere, | Joined a gym the next night, | Started dressing twenty years younger, | Started losing twenty years of mind. | My wife said, “You're still attractive.” | Wrong answer. | “Still” became the word. | I spent three days dissecting | Every implication that I heard. | Started flirting with the waitress | Just to see if I still could, | Then got angry when my wife noticed— | [Chorus] | NEVER SECOND PLACE! | I need somebody underneath! | Winning doesn't taste like anything | Without somebody tasting defeat! | NEVER SECOND PLACE! | Put my picture where they'll see! | I don't need to love what I've become— | I need you wishing you were me. | Call it confidence, ambition, | Call it knowing what I'm worth. | Pride can turn your whole existence | Into proving you're the biggest man on Earth. | [Bridge] | Then my son beat me in basketball. | Nothing serious. | Driveway hoop. | He laughed and shouted, | “Finally!” | I should've laughed too. | Instead I said he traveled. | He said, “Dad, come on.” | I checked the ball. | Said the rim was low. | He stared at me for half a second | And something in his expression changed. | He'd wanted to beat his father. | Not humiliate a rival. | He wanted me to be proud of him. | I wanted a rematch. | Fuck. | That's when I saw the sickness. | Not in trophies. | Not in cars. | Not in fighting every wrinkle | Like mortality had gone too far. | It was needing my own child | To stay smaller than his dad— | Just to protect an image | of a man | I'd never actually been. | [Final Chorus] | NEVER SECOND PLACE! | What a lonely fucking prize! | Every victory gets smaller | When you need another man reduced in size. | NEVER SECOND PLACE! | Keep the medals, keep the praise! | You can spend your whole existence winning | And still hate your own damn face. | My son stopped asking me to play him. | My wife stopped asking me what's wrong. | Nobody fought me for the pedestal. | They simply fucking moved along. | Now I'm undefeated in the driveway. | Nobody comes around to play. | Still number one. | Still keeping score. | Still waiting for somebody | to give a shit | who won.

Brave, brave bastard, | look at him go, | picking every battle | where the answer’s already no. | Perfect posture. | Perfect sneer. | Always finds his backbone | when there’s nothing left to fear. | He loves a helpless target. | [VERSE] | He speaks hard | when the door is locked behind him. | Talks tough | when the other man can’t answer. | Finds his principles | after somebody else | has already paid for them. | He’ll kick the fallen, | mock the sick, | tell a grieving woman | she’s being dramatic. | Then straighten his cuffs | like cruelty required discipline. | Such courage. | Such fucking courage. | [CHORUS] | Brave, brave bastard, | safe behind the line. | Brave, brave bastard, | courage right on time. | Punch down hard, | smile for the room, | make a weaker person prove you’re strong. | Brave, brave bastard— | funny how his nerve disappears | when somebody hits back wrong. | Brave, brave bastard. | Polished shoes. | Spotless hands. | [VERSE] | He likes witnesses. | Not too many. | Enough to hear him win, | not enough to question | what winning meant. | He can humiliate a quiet man | and call it honesty. | Can corner someone smaller | and call it confidence. | Can turn another person’s weakness | into entertainment | then act offended | when nobody laughs. | Make the wound. | Object to the blood. | [REFRAIN] | Bold from above. | Bold from behind. | Bold with somebody else | already tied down. | [VERSE] | He tells stories | where he never hesitated. | Every room remembers differently. | He was the one | who waited for backup. | The one who checked | who had authority. | The one who lowered his voice | when the wrong person entered. | But memory looks better | after tailoring. | Now he stood alone. | Now he never flinched. | Now everybody else | should’ve followed his example. | The bastard gets taller | every time he retells it. | [CHORUS] | Brave, brave bastard, | safe behind the line. | Brave, brave bastard, | courage right on time. | Punch down hard, | smile for the room, | make a weaker person prove you’re strong. | Brave, brave bastard— | funny how his nerve disappears | when somebody hits back wrong. | Brave, brave bastard. | Polished shoes. | Spotless hands. | [BREAKDOWN] | Put him with somebody | who doesn’t need his approval. | Watch the shoulders change. | Put him across from someone | who knows the whole story. | Hear the volume drop. | Put consequence | close enough to touch him. | Now he’s reasonable. | Now he wants context. | Now everyone should calm down | and behave like adults. | Magnificent transformation. | All that bravery | fits inside one careful sentence: | “Let’s not overreact.” | [VERSE] | He can destroy a reputation | over drinks | then complain about gossip. | Can cut someone loose | then praise himself | for making the difficult decision. | Can watch another person drown | from three feet away | and explain afterward | why reaching in | would’ve been irresponsible. | Always an explanation. | Always immaculate. | He never leaves fingerprints | on anything | he pushed downhill. | [BRIDGE] | The worst part | is he believes himself. | That shine is real. | He sees restraint | where everybody else saw fear. | Sees leadership | where everybody else saw appetite. | Sees a man standing tall | inside every angle | that hid the people underneath him. | Move the viewpoint | three feet sideways | and the whole portrait changes. | He doesn’t move. | [FINAL CHORUS] | Brave, brave bastard, | safe behind the line. | Brave, brave bastard, | courage right on time. | Punch down hard, | smile for the room, | make a weaker person prove you’re strong. | Brave, brave bastard— | watch him polish every cowardice | until it looks like right and wrong. | Brave, brave bastard. | Still talking. | Still certain. | Still choosing targets | that can’t make him pay. | Then one finally can. | He sees it. | The smile gets smaller. | His voice gets softer. | His hands stay very, | very still.

[Verse 1] | The sink has had that drip for months, | I've learned to sleep beside the sound, | There's a letter marked FINAL NOTICE | Face-down somewhere on the ground. | The porch light burned out back in winter, | The grass is halfway up the stairs, | Every problem waits politely | For the day I finally care. | My sister says I never call her. | She's right. I don't know what to say. | We used to talk for fucking hours. | Now I watch her messages decay. | Not angry, hurt or even busy, | Nothing dramatic interfered— | I just kept meaning to answer | Till another year disappeared. | [Pre-Chorus] | Everybody thinks destruction | Needs a hammer or a flame. | Sometimes all you have to do | Is nothing every fucking day. | [Chorus] | NOTHING HAPPENS HERE! | That's how it always dies, | No explosion, no disaster, | Just neglect in small disguise. | NOTHING HAPPENS HERE! | Nothing changes, nothing grows, | Nothing hurts enough to fix it, | Nothing matters till it goes. | I didn't lose my life in battle. | Didn't gamble it away. | I left it sitting on the counter | And kept walking past each day. | [Verse 2] | She used to sleep against my shoulder. | Now we barely share the sheets. | There's no affair, no screaming matches, | Just two strangers brushing teeth. | She stopped asking where we're going. | I stopped asking what she meant. | We confused the lack of fighting | With a relationship content. | Her suitcase waited by the doorway | One completely normal night. | I looked up from the television, | Said, “You're leaving?” | She said, “Right.” | Then laughed without finding humor. | “You noticed. That's a start.” | She'd spent three years saying goodbye | While I was sitting six feet apart. | [Chorus] | NOTHING HAPPENS HERE! | That's how it always dies, | No explosion, no disaster, | Just neglect in small disguise. | NOTHING HAPPENS HERE! | Nothing changes, nothing grows, | Nothing hurts enough to fix it, | Nothing matters till it goes. | I didn't lose my life in battle. | Didn't gamble it away. | I left it sitting on the counter | And kept walking past each day. | [Verse 3] | Apathy's a quiet bastard. | Never asks you to surrender. | Vote next time. | Call next weekend. | Fix the roof when weather clears. | Tell your father that you love him | When it doesn't feel so weird. | Then the roof caves through the bedroom. | Then the election's come and gone. | Then your father's number's disconnected. | Then the woman you loved moves on. | You keep waiting for the moment | When you'll suddenly give a shit— | Like caring is a train arriving | And you've bought a ticket for it. | [Bridge] | I wasn't always fucking lazy. | That's the part I hate the most. | I had plans that filled notebooks. | I had people I held close. | Then comfort became anesthesia. | Every compromise got cheap. | I traded difficult for easy | Till easy buried me knee-deep. | No one stole my opportunities. | No great enemy prevailed. | I got extremely good | At never trying hard enough to fail. | Never jump. | Never miss. | Never love enough to grieve. | Keep every door unopened | Then complain there's nowhere left to leave. | [Breakdown] | LATER! | NOT NOW! | TOO MUCH! | SOME DAY! | Let it leak! | Let it crack! | Let another year go black! | Don't decide! | Don't commit! | Don't risk looking like a prick! | Sit perfectly fucking motionless | While everything around you quits! | [Final Chorus] | NOTHING HAPPENS HERE! | Now the house is finally still, | No one calling, no one asking, | No demands upon my will. | NOTHING HAPPENS HERE! | I got everything I chose— | No responsibility, no conflict, | Nobody left to disappoint. | [Outro] | The sink finally stopped dripping. | Not because somebody fixed the leak. | The water got disconnected | After notices for weeks. | I stare up from the couch and think, | “I really ought to handle this.” | Then reach down for the remote.