Pontchartrain Static

(Sound of a phone ringing once, then cutting to a voicemail beep)

[Verse 1]
Yo, it’s us. Yeah, we just clocked out, 4:08 on the dash.
Left the register short by a twenty, just for gas.
Smell of chicory burnt on our clothes, the steam on the glass,
another Saturday night in the past, a city movin' too fast.
We scraped the gum from under table seven, swept the last of the rice,
heard Chef say "never again," for like the seventeen-hundredth time.
It's the same procession, the nightly confession, we pay the same price,
just to buy a little silence, roll the dice on some bad advice.

[Chorus]
This that Pontchartrain static, no words on the radio.
Just the hum of the tires on the bridge, the only way we know
how to scrub the night off us, watchin' the water down below.
This that hollow-point triumph, a win with nowhere left to go.

[Verse 2]
Yeah, the whole crew's packed in the Sentra, condensation on the pane.
Windows down, feel the wet air, tastes like sugar cane and rain.
Tryna outrun the streetcar clang, tryna wash out the stain
of a thousand fake "thank yous" that rattle around in the brain.
Nobody's speakin', we made a pact, it’s a ceremonial ride,
past the half-built condos with nothin' but ghosts inside.
We got the money in the drop box, swallowed the last of our pride.
There's a crack in the windshield where the city and the sky divide.

[BEAT SWITCH]

[Bridge]
Halfway across the water now, the city's just a yellow smear.
We ain't headed toward nothin', we're just makin' it disappear.
This is the part where the victory's supposed to feel clear,
but the quiet out here is just louder than the noise we hear
back there. We bought the dream, we paid the cost.
We won the shift, but feel the loss.
Every damn night, a new line crossed.

[Outro]
...Anyway. We're on the causeway.
Call us back when you get this.
(Sound of a hang-up click, then silence)