Loose Tender

[Verse 1]
The fifty-quid notes on the lino, a faded Vimto stain beside 'em,
October night bus shelter, rain beading on the Perspex transom.
Felt the cold seep through my thin coat, the fluorescent hum overhead.
Your breath a cloud against the glass, ignoring every word I said.
Then you snatched it up, a sudden torsion, a grin that split the night's proportion,
Said "God provides a small contortion, his loss is just our good fortune."
The paper felt unreal, electric, a blueprint for a life unchecked,
We split the load-bearing lie right there, and never looked back, I half-suspect.

[Chorus]
One grand flat on the kitchen table, under the bulb, unstable.
Thumbprint slick on the Queen's face, putting the whole world in its place.
One grand flat on the kitchen table, rewriting the ending to the fable.
Thumbprint slick on the Queen's face, a temporary state of grace.

[Verse 2]
We bought new creps down the Arndale, paid the deposit on that gaff in Hulme.
Felt like we'd cracked the system's firewall, dispelled the Mancunian gloom.
For a month, we were architects of a future that felt solid, plated.
Didn't mention the face of that bloke as the 43 bus waited.
Then the silence grew like a hairline fracture, a thing you can't see but you feel after.
Every pint you bought felt like a draft, a debt disguised inside the laughter.
That thousand quid, it didn't fix things, it just bought better scaffolding.
We built a fault line with that paper, a quiet, structural unravelling.

[Bridge]
A thousand quid ain't a structure, it's just a stack.
It's the weight you put on it that makes the whole thing crack.

[Chorus]
One grand flat on the kitchen table, under the bulb, unstable.
Thumbprint slick on the Queen's face, putting the whole world in its place.
One grand flat on the kitchen table, rewriting the ending to the fable.
Thumbprint slick on the Queen's face, a temporary state of grace.

[Outro]
It's 4 AM now. Same kitchen. The bulb still hums that low-watt tune.
Just counting out ghosts under a different moon.