A Common Vine

[Verse 1]
We sit on folded chairs at the Brewster Center again,
the water-stain on tile two-oh-three is our oldest friend.
The hum from the ballast in the fluorescent light,
bleaching out the color of a Tuesday night in deep July.
And we don't look at each other, but we feel the same weight,
a garden they call broken, right outside the gate.

[Chorus]
And for a second, we see it, we all see it.
The light hits the dust in the projector beam.
Suddenly we're breathing starlight, a collective dream.
Just a flicker of an anthem, unheard and unseen.

[Verse 2]
Your boy kicks the leg of your chair, a steady, nervous beat.
Mine is drawing circles in the condensation sweet
on a can of Vernors that's been sweating for an hour.
"...a managed decline for the corridor," he reads, with all the power
of a man who's never pulled a weed up with his hands,
and doesn't know a thing about these promised lands.

[Chorus]
And for a second, we see it, we all see it.
The light hits the dust in the projector beam.
Suddenly we're breathing starlight, a collective dream.
Just a flicker of an anthem, unheard and unseen.

[Bridge]
(Rhythmic Breakdown: Percussion and Whispered Vocals only)
(whispers, layered, percussive)
Chennault. Davison. Mack. Conant.
Eleanora. DeShawn. Mike. Shanelle.
(whispers) That's the key right there.
(whispers) That's the name of the cell.

[Outro]
The light dies down. He turns the page.
But we hold the flicker, defiant on a silent stage.