Trophy Dust

[Verse 1]
Your black Levi's jacket on the back of the chair
Still had the fine dust on it from the state fair.
First Tuesday in November, twenty-nineteen,
I remember the cold zipper sound, sharp and clean.
You were tracing the chip in the ceramic tile,
Waited for my apology for a little while.

[Chorus]
And I won, I got the last word in.
A permanent stain, a stress tear in the denim.
Yeah, I won, and the silence began.
So this is the view from the winning side, then.

[Verse 2]
The hum of the GE fridge was a funeral drum.
I watched your shoulders fall, I felt my own hands go numb.
You turned at the doorway and said, "Are we done?"
I should've unstitched every sharp word, one by one.
But the victory tasted like rust on my tongue,
A stupid anthem I wish I’d never sung.

[Chorus]
And I won, I got the last word in.
A permanent stain, a stress tear in the denim.
Yeah, I won, and the silence began.
So this is the view from the winning side, then.

[Bridge]
All of that righteous fire feels like an ashtray now.
We mended that seam but it never laid flat somehow.

[Outro]
The winning side.
Felt colder than I planned.