The Smoking Area

The smoking area
I only came out for air

Three plastic chairs and a broken fourth
One red heater near the wall
You move your bag so I can sit
Then tell me why you missed last call
Your mother's coming home on Monday
You show the photo on your screen
I say, "That's good," and really mean it
You ask me how my week's been

Inside, the bass can fill a room
Out here, you leave a space for me

The smoking area, pull a chair near
Bass through the wall, but I can hear you clear
Nothing gets fixed in ten minutes out here
But you don't have to hold it alone out here

Out here
You can take your time

I tell you that the wedding's off
Been saying, "Fine," to all my friends
You don't explain what happens next
Or make the story have an end
The heater clicks; we watch it glow
You let the quiet keep my place
Then six heads turn toward the door
That little piano starts again

The smoking area, pull a chair near
Bass through the wall, but I can hear you clear
Nothing gets fixed in ten minutes out here
But you don't have to hold it alone out here

Later you find me by the speakers
You don't ask me if I'm fine
You lift one hand; I lift the other
We leave the words we said outside

The smoking area, you pulled a chair near
Bass through the wall, but you could hear me clear
Nothing got fixed in ten minutes out there
But I came back knowing somebody cared

The smoking area
I came back in with you