The story
He sits where nobody asks him to leave.
He sinks into the couch with his boots still on, staring at the TV glow while the room stays loud with what isn’t being said. A bottle sweats on the table, the phone lies face down, and every cushion holds the shape of a day gone wrong. He keeps his tears low, like even the house might hear him.
No lyric sheet is published for this track, so this reading is drawn from its title and the sound of the record.
Lyrics
The lyric sheet for this one isn't published yet — press play and listen along.