Dog-Eared Tuesdays

[Intro]
[Verse]
Rain streaks the glass
Watch the hours pass
You walk through the door
Across the creaky floor
With a coat damp and gray
In your usual way
You find the back shelf
And keep to yourself
[Pre-Chorus]
I steam the mint tea
You don't look at me
But the flugelhorn sighs
Under low-lit skies
[Chorus]
Hidden in the Keats
Between the yellow sheets
A tiny ink-stained clue
Left there just by you
You dog-ear the page
Like a quiet sage
Writing rhymes on the fly
For my watchful eye
[Post-Chorus]
It’s a slow-burning flame
With no formal name
Just a slip of a verse
Could be better or worse
[Verse]
Three months have gone
Since this game came on
You treat your Byron rough
Like he’s not enough
Then you tuck in a note
In your heavy wool coat
Before you depart
With a piece of my heart
[Hook]
Tuesday night blues
In your vintage shoes
Tuesday night hope
On a slippery slope
[Break]
(Scat vocal break over soft mallet percussion)
[Bridge]
Chipped mugs and old spines
Reading between the lines
Streetlight through the fog
Like a soft monologue
I find where you’ve been
By the ink on your skin
And the way that you smile
For a very short while
[Verse]
You found the Shelley
In the bookstore belly
You left a new trace
With a gentle grace
"To the girl at the till"
My heart standing still
As the Latin beat swings
And the alto sax sings
[Chorus]
Hidden in the Keats
Between the yellow sheets
A tiny ink-stained clue
Left there just by you
You dog-ear the page
Like a quiet sage
Writing rhymes on the fly
For my watchful eye
[Post-Chorus]
It’s a slow-burning flame
With no formal name
Just a slip of a verse
Could be better or worse
[Outro]