I kept the porch light low
Still plays the eighty-dollar guitar he bought at nineteen and refuses better ones
the numbers
- bpm
- 99
- key
- G minor
- energy
- 0.71
- dance
- 0.95
- valence
- 0.58
- vocal at
- 5.4s
- length
- 4:58
- language
- En
lyrics
June blew hot on South Lamar Mister J’s neon buzzed till two Maple boxes by the curb Had names taped on in faded blue The barber pole spun in the glass A box fan shoved the dust around I watched the U-Haul backs pull off And kept my boots on local ground At 8:15, the café closed One chair left by the window pane I drank the last of yesterday And let the silence learn my name Still here, still here, still here, still here I kept the porch light low Still here, still here, still here, still here While the truck tires rolled below Their screens went dark by Waterston A mattress leaned on broken brick The pool near Town Lake turned to green The diving board went bare and slick My keys sat warm in my back pocket My ice box hummed in the heat I swept the pine needles off the step And heard my own pulse down the street At 8:15, the café closed One chair left by the window pane I drank the last of yesterday And let the silence learn my name Still here, still here, still here, still here I kept the porch light low Still here, still here, still here, still here While the truck tires rolled below By Labor Day, the grocery shelves Were thin as church fans in July I found your note under the jar Three lines, one half-burned corner dry I folded it and kept it close In my shirt pocket through the heat When the thunder shook the screen door hard I let the rain wash off my feet Still here, still here, still here, still here I kept the porch light low Still here, still here, still here, still here While the truck tires rolled below