Would Anybody Miss The Noise
House lights dim and the bar bright stains the ceiling in sick soft tones
Sound guy shrugs from the back like he’s doing me a favor fiddling with his phones
First chord rings through a room where nobody asked for a band
Just a drunk crowd working on forgetting with a drink in each hand.
Guy at the rail is yelling for a song I never learned and never will
Girl in the back is scrolling through her phone like time’s standing still
I pour my throat through a mic that smells like ten other mouths and sweat
While the owner checks the register drawer
seeing if the night’s worth it yet.
I’m a gig rat playing to drunk strangers who don’t know my face
Pouring out a lifetime into forty-dollar shame
If I walked off mid-chorus and let this cheap PA die
Would anybody miss the noise or just talk a little louder and get by?
Third set
same covers I swore I’d quit before I turned twenty-five
But the rent doesn’t care what art is
it just wants you alive
Some tired request for an anthem they only know from a commercial
I turn my back to the room for a second so they don’t see me feeling that bad.
Tip jar sitting there empty except for a couple of coins that aren’t even real
Bartender sliding me one free beer like that’s gonna fix the deal
He says “You sound great, man
” then turns the sports channel up too loud
Nothing like your own six-string getting buried under someone else’s cheer.
I’m a gig rat playing to drunk strangers who don’t know my face
Turn my own heartbreak into background to their mess
If I unplugged this speaker and just let the silence rise
Would anybody miss the noise or just blame the bar and roll their eyes?
I picture stacking these songs in a bonfire out back of the front
Let every chorus burn with all this unpaid rage
But my fingers still find the chords like they signed some deal with my bones
So I keep feeding verses to people staring into their phones.
There’s a kid by the door with a band tee from a group that never made it out
I wonder if their singer had nights like this
full of doubt
Last call hits and the room thins out to sticky floors and smeared glass rings
I’m packing cables in the dark while the dishwasher hums and sings.
Owner slips me folded bills that smell like fryer grease and smoke
Says “Crowd was light, tough night
” like that’s some kind of joke
I nod and say “No worries
” drag my gear out to the curb
Streetlight buzzing overhead like it’s trying to form a word.
I’m a gig rat playing to drunk strangers who don’t know my face
Cash in my pocket barely justifies the shame
If I never booked another night
never plugged back into this noise
Would anybody miss the sound or just find some other background toys?
I sit in the car a minute with my hands on the wheel and no song left to play
Ask the empty passenger seat if I should pack it in or try one more day
Then I write one more chorus in my head no one else will ever hear
Drive home on dead streets wondering who the hell I’m singing for this year.