[Verse 1]
Eleven fifteen, kitchen island, red cup sweating in my hand,
Gary from accounting's three beers deep, got the whole room in his plan,
Started with his smoker, moved on to his fantasy league trade,
Now it's one long soliloquy — a one-man speech where no reply gets made,
Paper plate's been empty twenty minutes, I've stacked my coat by the door,
He's narrating his divorce now, didn't ask but here's the whole folklore,
I nod like a lighthouse beam, I laugh exactly where he pauses,
Trapped between the fridge and the wall, held here by manners, not by clauses,
The dip's gone warm, the ice has melted, the playlist's looped around twice,
And I'm still the captive audience, paying a toll I never priced.
[Chorus]
I'm held real polite, no rope, no chain,
Just too kind to say your name and walk away,
I'm held real polite, no rope, no chain,
Smiling through it like it's painless — it's not, it's not.
[Verse 2]
Next party, I try something different before I even touch the door,
I set a ten minute timer, drop the phone in my coat, start the count on the floor,
Whatever he's mid-sentence on when that little buzz goes off,
That's my line, that's my door, I don't wait for him to cough,
I say "gotta go find Dana" or "my ride just pulled in the drive,"
Don't need a clever exit line, just proof that I'm alive,
Outside my own head, where ten minutes of his highlight reel
Is generous, is plenty — the timer doesn't care how he'll feel,
It just marks the minute, hands it to me like a key,
Garrulous or not, the clock decides when I'm free.
[Verse 3]
Funny thing is, I do this everywhere, not just at a backyard barbecue,
Let my sister talk circles for an hour, let a stranger's small talk turn into a queue,
I used to think leaving made me the villain in somebody else's scene,
Like my own two feet owed a tollbooth fee for every word they've ever seen,
But boundaries aren't a slammed door, they're just a window cracked for air,
A little room to breathe my own life back before I'm pinned down in some chair,
I'm learning the difference between listening and being used as a wall,
Between caring what he's feeling and losing myself to his call,
It's a small rebellion, quiet, nobody claps when it's done,
Just me, walking to my car, under a sky that still has sun.
[Bridge]
He'll still corner me in March, forget my name again by June,
I can't fix a man who talks in circles like a stuck balloon,
The leaving never gets easy, I still feel the small guilt bite,
I just don't let it swallow the rest of my night.
[Chorus]
I'm held real polite, no rope, no chain,
Just too kind to say your name and walk away,
I'm held real polite, no rope, no chain,
Smiling through it like it's painless — it's not, it's not.
[Chorus]
I'm held real polite, no rope, no chain,
Just too kind to say your name and walk away,
I'm held real polite, no rope, no chain,
Smiling through it like it's painless — it's not, it's not.