Smoke on the Low End

Basement door sticky with old paint. Red exit sign humming in the dark. You lean back in that wobbly barstool throne. Eyes on me like you already know my heart. I got that smoke on the low end. Name on your glass, on your tongue. Every word slow like a long pour. Every fear cut short by my lungs. Let the room fade till it's just my voice And your stare. I got that smoke on the low end. Pull you in, keep you right there. Ring on a rail, Sweating from cheap gin. Bartender wipes circles in the wood. Your pulse keeps time, tapping in your boot. You don't clap, but I know you would. I got that smoke on the low end. Name on your glass, on your tongue. Every word slow like a long pour. Every fear cut short by my lungs. Let the room fade till it's just my voice And your stare. I got that smoke on the low end. Pull you in, keep you right there. Who are you When the lights don't care? When the crowd turns ghost and there's bourbon in The air. Oh. If I call your truth Right here, right now, will you rise when I Say your name out Loud? I got that smoke on the low end. Name on your glass, on your tongue. Every word slow like a long pour. Every fear cut short by my lungs. Let the room fade till it's just my voice And your stare. I got that smoke on the low end. You're already there. Already there.