Formica Witness

[Verse 1]
The vinyl on the booth at Lafayette stuck to my jacket's hem,
3:47 AM, that first Tuesday in October again.
The flat-top grill's a steady hiss, the only other sound I'm hearing,
My shadow long across the floor, just slowly disappearing.
Onion dust on my knuckle, got the chili half-and-half,
Just staring at the condensation tracing its own path.
Then a kid, maybe nineteen, wiping tables, stops his broom.
Says, "'The joists groan a name that isn't mine,'... that's from your room?"

[Chorus]
(DJ scratches) "They-they know the name now"
(DJ scratches) "Know the-know the-know the name now"
(DJ scratches) "They-they-they know the name now"
(DJ scratches) "Yeah... know the name now"

[Verse 2]
(Flow shifts faster, more syncopated)
It's a strange vibration, a stress test on a different load-bearing beam,
To hear your private inventory spoken back inside a public dream.
My father's name was punched in brass, a tag on a GM locker door,
A five-digit ghost that clocked out once and wasn't seen no more.
Now a stranger knows my floorboards, knows the quiet that I keep,
While my old man's entire history is six feet down and fast asleep.
This isn't triumph, it's a balance sheet, the ink is black and cold,
Another coat of paint on a foundation that's already old.

[Bridge]
(Harp loop is prominent, vocals are more spoken)
Just nodded at the kid. Paid my tab in cash.
Left the formica witness to that sudden, quiet flash.

[Outro]
(Beat fades with scratches slowing down)
Yeah... they know the name.
Just not the one I'm trying to frame.