Chrome and Glass

[Verse 1]
My last good tube burned out on a Thursday in July.
Left me humming in the corner, watching dust motes ride the light.
You walked in smelling of diesel, hands scrubbed clean but still ingrained,
And you ordered up a Coors and watched the lightning scratch the plains.

[Chorus]
I'm just chrome and glass, a witness to the play.
Reflecting back the silent things your cautious bodies say.
Seventy-five cents a memory, a story in a song,
Waiting for a circuit to connect where you belong.

[Verse 2]
She came in around eleven, shaking out the desert rain.
Her shoulders held the tension of a long and losing game.
You fed me a worn dollar for some faded Kenny Rogers tune,
Underneath the buzz and flicker of a Tuesday afternoon.

[Chorus]
I'm just chrome and glass, a witness to the play.
Reflecting back the silent things your cautious bodies say.
Seventy-five cents a memory, a story in a song,
Waiting for a circuit to connect where you belong.

[Bridge]
Your fingers traced the titles, her breath was on the pane.
She whispered, "Never liked this one, it always felt like pain."
A current running on a wire thin as trust,
Between the heat of living skin and my electric dust.

[Outro]
She picked a different number.
You didn't turn away.