Sticky Floor Sermon

[A Cappella Intro]
Heard the last shot glass ring like a tithe on the wet-mat
Then the deadbolt clicks home, no turning back from that

[Verse 1]
The bar rag draws a line through the condensation's haze
Past the neon glow bleedin' out on Iberville for days
Each stool gets inverted, a row of metal spines
He's 86'ing ghosts left between the whiskey lines
The air, a bitter mix of bleach and withered lime
A half-past three communion to sanitize the grime
He moves without a thought, a muscle memory trance
Giving the closing ritual its solitary dance.

[Chorus]
This the sticky floor sermon for the saints in the glass
The penance in the polish 'til the memory's passed
The prayer in the pour, the ritual slow and fast
Sweeping up the pieces that were built not to last.

[Verse 2]
He sees the lipstick traces, a confession in the smear
Hears a voice echo, "Baby, what are we doin' here?"
That was seven hours back, now the quiet is severe
Just the hum of the ice machine buzzing in his ear
The till is reconciled, the sinners disappeared
Another Saturday's profits for all the doubt he's cleared
He bags up the casualties, the napkins and the fears
And stacks the clean pint glasses like a column of cold tears.

[BEAT SWITCH]

[Bridge]
The ache is umami, it's a salt on the wound
A flavor they all tasted in this dimly lit room
Now the Wurlitzer's quiet under a borrowed moon
Just another long service ending way too soon.

[Outro]
This the sticky floor sermon for the saints in the glass
The prayer in the pour... sweeping up the pieces that were built not to last.