Sawyer’s waiting by the car outside
Thinking “man, this place is such a dive”
Knowing this may be his only chance
From the corner Violet sneaks a glance
At him
Trying hard to grow a thicker skin
Knuckles pressing up against his chin
Violet says, “Can you just spit it out?”
Drinks arrive, his eyes still full of doubt
Among the candlelight, between some talk of him and her,
He puts on quite a show to seem more self-assured
He overhears she’s moving far away
Tired of the laid-back southern place
Bottles cradled, laughter everywhere
Wondering why he should even care to know
Would it be so bad to own up to the feeling?
Among the bitter crowd, no comfort left in sight
His chest entangled as he’s reaching for a light
The weeks pass, he still haunts the same old cabaret
A hand in Violet’s hand, she looks the other way